Sfe  MAKING  qf 

BOBBY 
BURNIT 


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0H ESTER 


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THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 


Will  you  if  I  get  my  father's  business  back? 


THE  MAKING  OF 
BOBBY  BURNIT 

Being  a  Record  of  the  Adventures 
of  a  Live  American  Young  Man 


By 
GEORGE  RANDOLPH  CHESTER 


With  Illustrations  by 
JAMES  MONTGOMKKY  FLAGG  AND  F.  R.  GHUOEK 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT  1909 
THE  BOBBS-MEHHIIX  COMPANY 

JUNE 


PRESS  OF 

BRAUNWORTH  &  CO. 

BOOKBINDERS  AND  PRINTERS 

BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


PS 


DEDICATION 

To  the  Handicapped  Sons  of  Able 

Fathers,  and  the  Handicapped 

Fathers   of  Able   Sons, 

with  Sympathy  for 

each,     and    a 

Smile   for 

both 


11CS1S5 


THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 


THE  MAKING 
OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 


CHAPTER  I 

BOBBY  MAKES  SOME   IMPORTANT   PEEPAEATIONS   FOE   A 
COMMEECIAL    LIFE 

s  "W"  AM  profoundly  convinced  that  my  son  is  a  fool," 
read  the  will  of  old  John  Burnit.  "I  am,  how- 
M.  ever,  also  convinced  that  I  allowed  him  to  be- 
come so  by  too  much  absorption  in  my  own  affairs  and 
too  little  in  his,  and,  therefore,  his  being  a  fool  is 
hereditary ;  consequently,  I  feel  it  my  duty,  first,  to 
give  him  a  fair  trial  at  making  his  own  way,  and 
second,  to  place  the  balance  of  my  fortune  in  such 
trust  that  he  can  not  starve.  The  trusteeship  is  al- 
ready created  and  the  details  are  nobody's  present 
business.  My  son  Robert  will  take  over  the  John 
Burnit  Store  and  personally  conduct  it,  as  his  only  re- 
source, without  further  question  as  to  what  else  I 
may  have  left  behind  me.  This  is  my  last  will  and  tes- 
tament." 

That    is    how    cheerful    Bobby    Burnit,    with    no 
1 


2        THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

thought  heretofore  above  healthy  amusements  and 
Agnes  Elliston,  suddenly  became  a  business  man,  after 
having  been  raised  to  become  the  idle  heir  to  about 
three  million.  Of  course,  having  no  kith  nor  kin  in 
all  this  wide  world,  he  went  immediately  to  consult 
Agnes.  It  is  quite  likely  that  if  he  had  been  supplied 
with  dozens  of  uncles  and  aunts  he  would  have  gone 
first  to  Agnes  anyhow,  having  a  mighty  regard  for 
her  keen  judgment,  even  though  her  clear  gaze  rested 
now  and  then  all  too  critically  upon  himself.  Just  as 
he  came  whirling  up  the  avenue  he  saw  Nick  Allstyne's 
white  car,  several  blocks  ahead  of  him,  stop  at  her 
door,  and  a  figure  which  he  knew  must  be  Nick  jump 
out  and  trip  up  the  steps.  Almost  immediately  the 
figure  came  down  again,  much  more  slowly,  and 
climbed  into  the  car,  which  whizzed  away. 

"Not  at  home,"  grumbled  Bobby. 

It  was  h'ke  him,  however,  that  he  should  continue 
straight  to  the  quaint  old  house  of  the  Ellistons  and 
proffer  his  own  card,  for,  though  his  aims  could  sel- 
dom be  called  really  worth  while,  he  invariably  fin- 
ished the  thing  he  set  out  to  do.  It  seemed  to  be  a 
sort  of  disease.  He  could  not  help  it.  To  his  surprise, 
the  Cerberus  who  guarded  the  Elliston  door  received 
him  with  a  smile  and  a  bow,  and  observed : 

"Miss  Elliston  says  you  are  to  walk  right  on  up  to 
the  Turkish  alcove,  sir." 


A    COMMERCIAL   LIFE  3 

While  Wilkins  took  his  hat  and  coat  Bobby  paused 
for  a  moment  figuratively  to  hug  himself.  At  home 
to  no  one  else !  Expecting  him ! 

"I'll  ask  her  again,"  said  Bobby  to  himself  with 
determination,  and  stalked  on  up  to  the  second  floor 
hall,  upon  which  opened  a  delightful  cozy  corner  where 
Aunt  Constance  Elliston  permitted  the  more  "family- 
like"  male  callers  to  smoke  and  loll  and  be  at  mannish 
ease. 

As  he  reached  the  landing  the  door  of  the  library 
below  opened,  and  in  it  appeared  Agnes  and  an  un- 
usually well-set-up  young  man — a  new  one,  who  wore 
a  silky  mustache  and  most  fastidious  tailoring.  The 
two  were  talking  and  laughing  gaily  as  the  door 
opened,  but  as  Agnes  glanced  up  and  saw  Bobby  she 
suddenly  stopped  laughing,  and  he  almost  thought 
that  he  overheard  her  say  something  in  an  aside  to 
her  companion.  The  impression  was  but  fleeting,  how- 
ever, for  she  immediately  nodded  brightly.  Bobby 
bowed  rather  stiffly  in  return,  and  continued  his  ascent 
of  the  stairs  with  a  less  sprightly  footstep.  Crest- 
fallen, and  conscious  that  Agnes  had  again  closed  the 
door  of  the  library  without  either  herself  or  the' 
strange  visitor  having  emerged  into  the  hall,  he  strode 
into  the  Turkish  alcove  and  let  himself  drop  upon  a 
divan  with  a  thump.  He  extracted  a  cigar  from  his 
cigar-case,  carefully  cut  off  the  tip  and  as  carefully 


4        THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

restored  the  cigar  to  its  place.  Then  he  clasped  his 
interlocked  fingers  around  his  knee,  and  for  the  next 
ten  minutes  strove,  like  a  gentleman,  not  to  listen. 

When  Agnes  came  up  presently  she  made  no  men- 
tion whatever  of  her  caller,  and,  of  course,  Bobby  had 
no  excuse  upon  which  to  hang  impertinent  ques- 
tions, though  the  sharp  barbs  of  them  were  darting 
through  and  through  him.  Such  fuming  as  he  felt, 
however,  was  instantly  allayed  by  the  warm  and 
thoroughly  honest  clasp  she  gave  him  when  she  shook 
hands  with  him.  It  was  one  of  the  twenty-two  million 
things  he  liked  about  her  that  she  did  not  shake  hands 
like  two  ounces  of  cold  fish,  as  did  some  of  the  girls  he 
knew.  She  was  dressed  in  a  half-formal  house-gown, 
and  the  one  curl  of  her  waving  brown  hair  that  would 
persistently  straggle  down  upon  her  forehead  was  in 
its  accustomed  place.  He  had  always  been  obsessed 
with  a  nearly  irresistible  impulse  to  put  his  finger 
through  that  curl. 

"I  have  come  around  to  consult  you  about  a  little 
business  matter,  Agnes,"  he  found  himself  beginning 
with  sudden  breathlessness,  his  perturbation  forgotten 
in  the  overwhelming  charm  of  her.  "The  governor's 
will  has  just  been  read  to  me,  and  he's  plunged  me 
into  a  ripping  mess.  His  whole  fortune  is  in  the  hands 
of  a  trusteeship,  whatever  that  is,  and  I'm  not  even  to 
know  the  trustees.  'All  I  get  is  just  the  business,  and 


A    COMMERCIAL    LIFE  5 

I'm  to  carry  the  John  Burnit  Store  on  from  its  pres- 
ent blue-ribbon  standing  to  still  more  dazzling  heights, 
I  suppose.  Well,  I'd  like  to  do  it.  The  governor  de- 
serves it.  But,  you  see,  I'm  so  beastly  thick-headed. 
Now,  Agnes,  you  have  perfectly  stunning  judgment 
and  all  that,  so  if  you  would  just — "  and  he  came  to 
an  abrupt  and  painful  pause. 

"Have  you  brought  along  the  contract  ?"  she  asked 
demurely.  "Honestly,  Bobby,  you're  the  most  orig- 
inal person  in  the  world.  The  first  time,  I  was  to 
marry  you  because  you  were  so  awkward,  and  the  next 
time  because  your  father  thought  so  much  of  me,  and 
another  time  because  you  wanted  us  to  tour  Norway 
and  not  have  a  whole  bothersome  crowd  along;  then 
you  were  tired  living  in  a  big,  lonely  house  with  just 
you  and  your  father  and  the  servants ;  now,  it's  an 
advantageous  business  arrangement.  What  share  of 
the  profits  am  I  to  receive?" 

Bobby's  face  had  turned  red,  but  he  stuck  manfully 
to  his  guns. 

"All  of  them,"  he  blurted.  "You  know  that  none  of 
those  is  the  real  reason,"  he  as  suddenly  protested. 
"It  is  only  that  when  I  come  to  tell  you  the  actual 
reason  I  rather  choke  up  and  can't." 

"You're  a  mighty  nice  boy,  Bobby,"  she  confessed. 
"Now  sit  down  and  behave,  and  tell  me  just  what  you 
have  decided  to  do." 


6       THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Well,"  said  he,  accepting  his  defeat  with  great 
philosophy,  since  he  had  no  reason  to  regard  it  as 
final,  "of  course,  my  decision  is  made  for  me.  I'm  to 
take  hold  of  the  business.  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it,  but  I  don't  see  why  it  shouldn't  go  straight 
on  as  it  always  has." 

"Possibly,"  she  admitted  thoughtfully ;  "but  I  im- 
agine your  father  expected  you  to  have  rather  a  diffi- 
cult time  of  it.  Perhaps  he  wants  you  to,  so  that  a 
defeat  or  two  will  sting  you  into  having  a  little  more 
serious  purpose  in  life  than  you  have  at  present.  I'd 
like,  myself,  to  see  you  handle,  with  credit  to  him  and 
to  you,  the  splendid  establishment  he  built  up." 

"If  I  do,"  Bobby  wanted  to  know,  "will  you  marry 
me?" 

"That  makes  eleven  times.  I'm  not  saying,  Bobby, 
but  you  never  can  tell." 

"That  settles  it.  I'm  going  to  be  a  business  man. 
Let  me  use  your  'phone  a  minute."  It  was  one  of  the 
many  advantages  of  the  delightfully  informal  Turk- 
ish alcove  that  it  contained  a  telephone,  and  in  two 
minutes  Bobby  had  his  tailors.  "Make  me  two  or 
three  business  suits,"  he  ordered.  "Regular  business 
suits,  I  mean,  for  real  business  wear — you  know  the 
sort  of  thing — and  get  them  done  as  quickly  as  you 
can,  please.  There!"  said  he  as  he  hung  up  the  re- 
ceiver. "I  shall  begin  to-morrow  morning.  I'll  go 


A    COMMERCIAL    LIFE  7 

down  early  and  take  hold  of  the  John  Burnit  Store 
in  earnest." 

"You've  made  a  splendid  start,"  commented  Agnes, 
smiling.  "Now  tell  me  about  the  polo  tournament," 
and  she  sat  back  to  enjoy  his  enthusiasm  over  some- 
thing about  which  he  was  entirely  posted.  i 

He  was  good  to  look  at,  was  Bobby,  with  his  clean- 
cut  figure  and  his  clean-cut  face  and  his  clean,  blue 
eyes  and  clean  complexion,  and  she  delighted  in  noth- 
ing more  than  just  to  sit  and  watch  him  when  he  was 
at  ease;  he  was  so  restful,  so  certain  to  be  always 
telling  the  truth,  to  be  always  taking  a  charitably 
good-humored  view  of  life,  to  turn  on  wholesome  top- 
ics and  wholesome  points  of  view;  but  after  he  had 
gone  she  smiled  and  sighed  and  shook  her  head. 

"Poor  Bobby,"  she  mused.  "There  won't  be  a  shred 
left  of  his  tender  little  fleece  by  the  time  he  gets 
through." 

One  more  monitor  Bobby  went  to  see  that  afternoon, 
and  this  was  Biff  Bates.  It  required  no  sending  in 
of  cards  to  enter  the  presence  of  this  celebrity.  One 
simply  stepped  out  of  the  elevator  and  used  one's 
latch-key.  It  was  so  much  more  convenient.  Entering 
a  big,  barnlike  room  he  found  Mr.  Bates,  clad  only  in 
trunks  and  canvas  shoes,  wreaking  dire  punishment 
upon  a  punching-bag  merely  by  way  of  amusement; 
and  Mr.  Bates,  with  every  symptom  of  joy  illumi- 


8        THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

nating  his  rather  horizontal  features — wide  brows, 
wide  cheek-bone,  wide  nose,  wide  mouth,  wide  chin, 
wide  jaw — stopped  to  shake  hands  most  enthusiastic- 
ally with  his  caller  without  removing  his  padded 
glove. 

"What's  the  good  news,  old  pal?"  he  asked  huskily. 

He  was  half  a  head  shorter  than  Bobby  and  four 
inches  broader  across  the  shoulders,  and  his  neck 
spread  out  over  all  the  top  of  his  torso;  but  there 
was  something  in  the  clear  gaze  of  the  eyes  which 
made  the  two  gentlemen  look  quite  alike  as  they 
shook  hands,  vastly  different  as  they  were. 

"Bad  news  for  you,  I'm  afraid,"  announced  Bobby. 
"That  little  partnership  idea  of  the  big  gymnasium 
will  have  to  be  called  off  for  a  while." 

Mr.  Bates  took  a  contemplative  punch  or  two  at 
the  still  quivering  bag. 

"It  was  a  fake,  anyway,"  he  commented,  putting 
his  arm  around  the  top  of  the  punching-bag  and 
leaning  against  it  comfortably;  "just  like  this  place. 
You  went  into  partnership  with  me  on  this  joint — 
that  is,  you  put  up  the  coin  and  run  in  a  lot  of  your 
friends  on  me  to  be  trained  up — squarest  lot  of  sports 
I  ever  saw,  too.  You  fill  the  place  with  business  and 
allow  me  a  weekly  envelope  that  makes  me  tilt  my 
chin  till  I  have  to  wear  my  lid  down  over  my  eyes  to 
keep  it  from  falling  off  the  back  of  my  head,  and 


A    COMMERCIAL    LIFE  9 

when  there's  profits  to  split  up  you  shoves  mine  into 
my  mitt  and  puts  yours  into  improvements.  You  put 
in  the  new  shower  baths  and  new  bars  and  traps,  and 
the  last  thing,  that  swimming-tank  back  there.  I'm 
glad  the  big  game's  off.  I'm  so  contented  now  I'm 
getting  over-weight,  and  you'd  bilk  me  again.  But 
what's  the  matter?  Did  the  bookies  get  you?" 

"No ;  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it,"  and  Bobby  care- 
fully explained  the  terms  of  his  father's  will  and  what 
they  meant. 

Mr.  Bates  listened  carefully,  and  when  the  explana- 
tion was  finished  he  thought  for  a  long  time. 

"Well,  Bobby,"  said  he,  "here's  where  you  get  it. 
They'll  shred  you  clean.  You're  too  square  for  that 
game.  Your  old  man  was  a  fine  old  sport  and  he 
played  it  on  the  level,  but,  say,  he  could  see  a  marked 
card  clear  across  a  room.  They'll  double-cross  you, 
though,  to  a  fare-ye-well." 

The  opinion  seemed  to  be  unanimous. 


CHAPTER  H 

PINK    CARNATIONS    APPEAR    IN     THE    OFFICE    OF     THE 
JOHN  BURNIT  STORE 

BOBBY  gave  his  man  orders  to  wake  him  up 
early  next  morning,  say  not  later  than  eight, 
and  prided  himself  very  much  upon  his  en- 
ergy when,  at  ten-thirty,  he  descended  from  his 
machine  in  front  of  the  old  and  honored  establish- 
ment of  John  Burnit,  and,  leaving  instructions  for 
his  chauffeur  to  call  for  him  at  twelve,  made  his  way 
down  the  long  aisles  of  white-piled  counters  and  into 
the  dusty  little  office  where  old  Johnson,  thin  as  a 
rail  and  with  a  face  like  whittled  chalk,  humped  over 
his  desk  exactly  as  he  had  sat  for  the  past  thirty-five 
years. 

"Good-morning,  Johnson,"  observed  Bobby  with  an 
affable  nod.  "I've  come  to  take  over  the  business." 

He  said  it  in  the  same  untroubled  tone  he  had  al- 
ways used  in  asking  for  his  weekly  check,  and  Johnson 
looked  up  with  a  wry  smile.  Applerod,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  beaming  with  hearty  admiration.  He  was 
as  florid  as  Johnson  was  colorless,  and  the  two  had 
10 


'    PINK    CARNATIONS  11 

rubbed  elbows   and  dispositions  in  that  same  room 
almost  since  the  house  of  Burnit  had  been  founded. 

"Very  well,  sir,"  grudged  Johnson,  and  immedi- 
ately laid  upon  the  time-blackened  desk  which  had 
been  old  John  Burnit's,  a  closely  typewritten  state- 
ment of  some  twenty  pages.  On  top  of  this  he  placed 
a  plain  gray  envelope  addressed: 

To  My  Son  Robert, 

Upon  the  Occasion  of  His  Taking  Over  the 
Business 

Upon  this  envelope  Bobby  kept  his  eyes  in  mild 
speculation,  while  he  leisurely  laid  aside  his  cane  and 
removed  his  gloves  and  coat  and  hat;  next  he  sat 
down  in  his  father's  jerky  old  swivel  chair  and  lit  a 
cigarette ;  then  he  opened  the  letter.  He  read : 

"Every  business  needs  a  pessimist  and  an  optimist, 
with  ample  opportunities  to  quarrel.  Johnson  is  a 
jackass,  but  honest.  He  is  a  pessimist  and  has  a  pea-^ 
green  liver.  Listen  to  him  and  the  business  will  die 
painlessly,  by  inches.  Applerod  is  also  a  jackass, 
and  I  presume  him  to  be  honest ;  but  I  never  tested  it. 
He  suffers  from  too  much  health,  and  the  surplus  goes 
into  optimism.  Listen  to  him  and  the  business  will 
die  in  horrible  agony,  quickly.  But  keep  both  of  them. 
Let  them  fight  things  out  until  they  come  almost  to 
an  understanding,  then  take  the  middle  course." 


12      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

That  was  all.  Bobby  turned  squarely  to  survey 
the  frowning  Johnson  and  the  still  beaming  Apple- 
rod,  and  with  a  flash  of  clarity  he  saw  his  father's 
wisdom.  He  had  always  admired  John  Burnit,  aside 
from  the  fact  that  the  sturdy  pioneer  had  been  his 
father,  had  admired  him  much  as  one  admires  the 
work  of  a  master  magician — without  any  hope  of 
emulation.  As  he  read  the  note  he  could  seem  to 
see  the  old  gentlemaa  standing  there  with  his  hands 
behind  him,  ready  to  stretch  on  tiptoe  and  drop  to 
his  heels  with  a  thump  as  he  reached  a  climax,  his 
spectacles  shoved  up  on  his  forehead,  his  strong, 
wrinkled  face  stern  from  the  cheek-bones  down,  but 
twinkling  from  that  line  upward,  the  twinkle,  which 
had  its  seat  about  the  shrewd  eyes,  suddenly  termi- 
nating in  a  sharp,  whimsical,  little  up-pointed  curl 
in  the  very  middle  of  his  forehead.  To  corroborate 
his  warm  memory  Bobby  opened  the  front  of  his 
watch-case,  where  the  same  face  looked  him  squarely 
in  the  eyes.  Naturally,  then,  he  opened  the  other  lid, 
where  Agnes  Elliston's  face  smiled  up  at  him.  Sud- 
denly he  shut  both  lids  with  a  snap  and  turned,  with 
much  distaste  but  with  a  great  show  of  energy,  to 
the  heavy  statement  which  had  all  this  time  con- 
fronted him.  The  first  page  he  read  over  laboriously, 
the  second  one  he  skimmed  through,  the  third  and 
fourth  he  leafed  over;  and  then  he  skipped  to  the 


PINK    CARNATIONS  13 

last  sheet,  where  was  set  down  a  concise  statement  of 
the  net  assets  and  liabilities. 

"According  to  this,"  observed  Bobby  with  great 
show  of  wisdom,  "I  take  over  the  business  in  a  very 
flourishing  condition." 

"Well,"  grudgingly  admitted  Mr.  Johnson,  "it 
might  be  worse." 

"It  could  hardly  be  better,"  interposed  Applerod — 
"that  is,  without  the  extensions  and  improvements 
that  I  think  your  father  would  have  come  in  time 
to  make.  Of  course,  at  his  age  he  was  naturally  a 
bit  conservative." 

"Mr.  Applerod  and  myself  have  never  agreed  upon 
that  point,"  wheezed  Johnson  sharply.  "For  my 
part  I  considered  your  father — well,  scarcely  reck- 
less, but,  say,  sufficiently  daring!  Daring  is  about 
the  word." 

Bobby  grinned  cheerfully. 

"He  let  the  business  go  rather  by  its  own  weight, 
didn't  he?" 

Both  gentlemen  shook  their  heads,  instantly  and 
most  emphatically. 

"He  certainly  must  have,"  insisted  Bobby.  "As  I 
recollect  it,  he  only  worked  up  here,  of  late  years, 
from  about  eleven  fifty-five  to  twelve  every  other 
Thursday." 

"Oftener  than  that,"  solemnly  corrected  the  literal 


14      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Mr.  Johnson.  "He  was  here  from  eleven  until  twelve- 
thirty  every  day." 

"What  did  he  do?" 

It  was  Applerod  who,  with  keen  appreciation, 
hastened  to  advise  him  upon  this  point. 

"Said  'yes'  twice  and  'no'  twelve  times.  Then,  at 
the  very  last  minute,  when  we  thought  that  he  was 
through,  he  usually  landed  on  a  proposition  that 
hadn't  been  put  up  to  him  at  all,  and  put  it  clear 
out  of  the  business." 

"Looks  like  good  finessing  to  me,"  said  Bobby 
complacently.  "I  think  I  shall  play  it  that  way." 

"It  wouldn't  do,  sir,"  Mr.  Johnson  replied  in  a 
tone  of  keen  pain.  "You  must  understand  that  when 
your  father  started  this  business  it  was  originally 
a  little  fourteen-foot-front  place,  one  story  high. 
He  got  down  here  at  six  o'clock  every  morning  and 
swept  out.  As  he  got  along  a  little  further  he  found 
that  he  could  trust  somebody  else  with  that  job — 
but  he  always  knew  how  to  sweep.  It  took  him  a  life- 
time to  simmer  down  his  business  to  just  'yes'  and 
'no.' " 

"I  see,"  mused  Bobby;  "and  I'm  expected  to  take 
that  man's  place !  How  would  you  go  about  it  ?" 

"I  would  suggest,  without  meaning  any  imperti- 
nence whatever,  sir,"  insinuated  Mr.  Johnson,  "that 
if  you  were  to  start  clerking " 


PINK   CARNATIONS  15 

"Or  sweeping  out  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning?" 
calmly  interrupted  Bobby.  "I  don't  like  to  stay  up 
so  late.  No,  Johnson,  about  the  only  thing  I'm 
going  to  do  to  show  my  respect  for  the  traditions  of 
the  house  is  to  leave  this  desk  just  as  it  is,  and  hang 
an  oil  portrait  of  my  father  over  it.  And,  by  the 
way,  isn't  there  some  little  side  room  where  I  can  have 
my  office?  I'm  going  into  this  thing  very  earnestly." 

Mr.  Johnson  and  Mr.  Applerod  exchanged  glances. 

"The  door  just  to  the  right  there,"  said  Mr.  John- 
son, "leads  to  a  room  which  is  at  present  filled  with 
old  files  of  the  credit  department.  No  doubt  those 
could  be  moved  somewhere  else." 

Bobby  walked  into  that  room  and  gaged  its  possi- 
bilities. It  was  a  little  small,  to  be  sure,  but  it  would 
do  for  the  present. 

"Just  have  that  cleared  out  and  a  'phone  put  in. 
I'll  get  right  down  to  business  this  afternoon  and 
see  about  the  fittings  for  it."  Then  he  looked  at 
his  watch  once  more.  "By  George !"  he  exclaimed,  "I 
almost  forgot  that  I  was  to  see  Nick  Allstyne  at  the 
Idlers'  Club  about  that  polo  match.  Just  have  one 
of  your  boys  stand  out  at  the  curb  along  about  twelve, 
will  you,  and  tell  my  chauffeur  to  report  at  the  club." 

Johnson  eyed  the  closed  door  over  his  spectacles. 

"He'll  be  having  blue  suits  and  brass  buttons  on 
us  two  next,"  he  snorted. 


16      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"He  don't  mean  it  at  all  that  way,"  protested 
Applerod.  "For  my  part,  I  think  he's  a  fine  young 
fellow." 

"I'll  give  you  to  understand,  sir,"  retorted  John- 
son, violently  resenting  this  imputed  defection,  "that 
he  is  the  son  of  his  father,  and  for  that,  if  for  noth- 
ing else,  would  have  my  entire  allegiance." 

Bobby,  meanwhile,  feeling  very  democratic  and 
very  much  a  man  of  affairs,  took  a  street-car  to  the 
Idlers',  and  strode  through  the  classic  portals  of  that 
club  with  gravity  upon  his  brow.  Flaxen-haired  Nick 
Allstyne,  standing  by  the  registry  desk,  turned  to 
dark  Payne  Winthrop  with  a  nod. 

"You  win,"  he  admitted.  "I'll  have  to  charge  it 
up  to  you,  Bobby.  I  just  lost  a  quart  of  the  special 
to  Payne  that  since  you'd  become  immersed  in  the 
cares  of  business  you'd  not  be  here." 

Bobby  was  almost  austere  in  his  reception  of  this 
slight. 

"Don't  you  know,"  he  demanded,  "that  there  is 
nobody  who  keeps  even  his  social  engagements  like  a 
business  man?" 

"That's  what  I  gambled  on,"  returned  Payne  con- 
fidentially, "but  I  wasn't  sure  just  how  much  of  a 
business  man  you'd  become.  Nick,  don't  you  already 
seem  to  see  a  crease  in  Bobby's  brow?" 

"No,  that's  his  regular  polo  crease,"  objected  lanky 


PINK    CARNATIONS  17 

Stanley  Rogers,  joining  them,  and  the  four  of  them 
fell  upon  polo  as  one  man.  Their  especially  anxious 
part  in  the  tournament  was  to  be  a  grinding  match 
against  WiUie  Ashler's  crack  team,  and  the  point  of 
worry  was  that  so  many  of  their  fellows  were  out  of 
town.  They  badly  needed  one  more  good  player. 

"I  have  it,"  declared  Bobby  finally.  It  was  he  who 
usually  decided  things  in  this  easy-going,  athletic 
crowd.  "We'll  make  Jack  Starlett  play,  but  the  only 
way  to  get  him  is  to  go  over  to  Washington  after  him. 
Payne,  you're  to  go  along.  You  always  keep  a  full 
set  of  regalia  here  at  the  club,  I  know.  Here,  boy !" 
he  called  to  a  passing  page.  "Find  out  for  us  the 
next  two  trains  to  Washington." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  boy  with  a  grin,  and  was  off 
like  a  shot.  They  had  a  strict  rule  against  tipping 
in  the  Idlers',  but  if  he  happened  to  meet  Bobby  out- 
side, say  at  the  edge  of  the  curb  where  his  car  was 
standing,  there  was  no  rule  against  his  receiving 
something  there.  Besides,  he  liked  Bobby,  anyhow. 
They  all  did.  He  was  back  in  a  moment. 

"One  at  two-ten  and  one  at  four-twenty,  sir." 

"The  two-ten  sounds  about  right,"  announced 
Bobby.  "Now,  Billy,  telephone  to  my  apartments 
to  have  my  Gladstone  and  my  dress-suit  togs  brought 
down  to  that  train.  Then,  by  the  way,  telephone 
Leatherby  and  Pluscher  to  send  up  to  my  place  of 


18      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURXIT 

business  and  have  Mr.  Johnson  show  their  man  my 
new  office.  Have  him  take  measurements  of  it  and 
fit  it  up  at  once,  complete.  They  know  the  kind  of 
things  I  like.  Really,  fellows,"  he  continued,  turning 
to  the  others,  after  he  had  patiently  repeated  and 
explained  his  instructions  to  the  foggy  but  willing 
Billy,  "I'm  in  serious  earnest  about  this  thing.  Up 
to  me,  you  know,  to  do  credit  to  the  governor,  if  I 
can." 

"Bobby,  the  Boy  Bargain  Baron,"  observed  Nick. 
"Well,  I  guess  you  can  do  it.  All  you  need  to  do  is 
to  take  hold,  and  I'll  back  you  at  any  odds." 

"We'll  all  put  a  bet  on  you,"  encouraged  Stanley 
Rogers.  "More,  we'll  help.  We'll  all  get  married 
and  send  our  wives  around  to  open  accounts  with 
you." 

In  spite  of  the  serious  business  intentions,  the 
luncheon  which  followed  was  the  last  the  city  saw  of 
Bobby  Burnit  for  three  days.  Be  it  said  to  his 
credit  that  he  had  accomplished  his  purpose  when  he 
returned.  He  had  brought  reluctant  Jack  Starlett 
back  with  him,  and  together  they  walked  into  the 
John  Burnit  Store. 

"New  office  fitted  up  yet,  Johnson?"  asked  Bobby 
pleasantly. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Johnson  sourly.  "Just  a  mo- 
ment, Mr.  Burnit,"  and  from  an  index  cabinet  back 


PINK    CARNATIONS  19 

of  him  lie  procured  an  oblong  gray  envelope  which  he 
handed  to  Bobby.    It  was  inscribed : 

To  My  Son, 
Upon  the  Fitting-Out  of  New  Offices 

With  a  half-embarrassed  smile,  Bobby  regarded 
that  letter  thoughtfully  and  carried  it  into  the  luxuri- 
ous new  office.  He  opened  it  and  read  it,  and,  still 
with  that  queer  smile,  passed  it  over  to  Starlett.  This 
was  old  John  Burnit's  message: 

"I  have  seen  a  business  work  up  to  success,  and 
afterward  add  velvet  rugs  and  dainty  flowers  on  the 
desk,  but  I  never  saw  a  successful  business  start 
that  way." 

Bobby  looked  around  him  with  a  grin.  There  was 
a  velvet  rug  on  the  floor.  There  were  no  flowers  upon 
the  mahogany  desk,  but  there  was  a  vase  to  receive 
them.  For  just  one  moment  he  was  nonplussed;  then 
he  opened  the  door  leading  to  the  dingy  apartment 
occupied  by  Messrs.  Johnson  and  Applerod. 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  said  he,  "will  you  kindly  send  out 
and  get  two  dozen  pink  carnations  for  my  room?" 

Quiet,  big  Jack  Starlett,  having  loaded  and  lit  and 
taken  the  first  long  puff,  removed  his  pipe  from  his 
lips. 

"Bully !"  said  he. 


CHAPTER  III 

OLD  JOHN  BURNIT'S  ANCIENT  ENEMY  POINTS  OUT  THE 

WAY  TO  GRANDEUR 

MR.  JOHNSON  had  no  hair  in  the  very  cen- 
ter of  his  head,  but,  when  he  was  more 
than  usually  vexed,  he  ran  his  fingers 
through  what  was  left  upon  both  sides  of  the  center 
and  impatiently  pushed  it  up  toward  a  common  point. 
His  hair  was  in  that  identical  condition  when  he 
knocked  at  the  door  of  Bobby's  office  and  poked  in 
his  head  to  announce  Mr.  Silas  Trimmer. 

"Trimmer,"  mused  Bobby.  "Oh,  yes;  he  is  the 
John  Burnit  Store's  chief  competitor;  concern  backs 
up  against  ours,  fronting  on  Market  Street.  Show 
him  in,  Johnson." 

Jack  Starlett,  who  had  dropped  in  to  loaf  a  bit, 
rose  to  go. 

"Sit  down,"  insisted  Bobby.  "I'm  conducting  this 
thing  all  open  and  aboveboard.  You  know,  I  think  I 
shall  like  business." 

"They  tell  me  it's  the  greatest  game  out,"  com- 
mented Starlett,  and  just  then  Mr.  Trimmer  entered. 
20 


THE    WAY    TO    GRANDEUR  21 

He  was  a  little,  wiry  man  as  to  legs  and  arms,  but 
fearfully  rotund  as  to  paunch,  and  he  had  a  yellow 
leather  face  and  black  eyes  which,  though  gleaming 
like  beads,  seemed  to  have  a  muddy  cast.  Bobby 
rose  to  greet  him  with  a  cordiality  in  no  degree 
abashed  by  this  appearance. 

"And  what  can  we  do  for  you,  Mr.  Trimmer?"  he 
asked  after  the  usual  inanities  of  greeting  had  been 
exchanged. 

"Take  lunch  with  me,"  invited  Mr.  Trimmer,  en- 
deavoring to  beam,  his  heavy,  down-drooping  gray 
mustache  remaining  immovable  in  front  of  the  deeply- 
chiseled  smile  that  started  far  above  the  corners  of  his 
nose  and  curved  around  a  display  of  yellow  teeth.  "I 
have  just  learned  that  you  have  taken  over  the  busi- 
ness, and  I  wish  as  quickly  as  possible  to  form  with 
the  son  the  same  cordial  relations  which  for  years 
I  enjoyed  with  the  father." 

Bobby  looked  him  contemplatively  in  the  eye,  but 
had  no  experience  upon  which  to  base  a  picture  of 
his  father  and  Mr.  Trimmer  enjoying  perpetually 
cordial  relations  with  a  knife  down  each  boot  leg. 

"Very  sorry,  Mr.  Trimmer,  but  I  am  engaged  for 
lunch." 

"Dinner,  then— at  the  Traders'  Club,"  insisted  Mr. 
Trimmer,  who  never  for  any  one  moment  had  re- 
mained entirely  still,  either  his  foot  or  his  hand 


22      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

moving,  or  some  portion  of  his  body  twitching  almost 
incessantly. 

Inwardly  Bobby  frowned,  for,  so  far,  he  had  found 
ilno  points  about  his  caller  to  arouse  his  personal  en- 
thusiasm; and  yet  it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that 
here  was  doubtless  business,  and  that  it  ought  to  have 
attention.  His  father,  under  similar  circumstances, 
would  find  out  what  the  man  was  after.  He  cast  a 
hesitating  glance  at  his  friend. 

"Don't  mind  me,  Bobby,"  said  Starlett  briskly. 
"You  know  I  shall  be  compelled  to  take  dinner  with 
the  folks  to-night." 

"At  about  what  time,  Mr.  Trimmer?"  Bobby  asked. 

"Oh,  suit  yourself.  Any  time,"  responded  that 
gentleman  eagerly.  "Say  half -past  six." 

"The  Traders',"  mused  Bobby.  "I  think  the  gov- 
ernor put  me  up  there  four  or  five  years  ago." 

"I  seconded  you,"  the  other  informed  him;  "and 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  voting  for  you  just  the  other 
day,  on  the  vacancy  made  by  your  father.  You're  a 
full-fledged  member  now." 

"Fine !"  said  Bobby.    "Business  suit  or " 

"Anything  you  like."  With  again  that  circular 
smile  behind  his  immovable  mustache,  Mr.  Trimmer 
backed  out  of  the  room,  and  Bobby,  dropping  into  a 
chair,  turned  perplexed  eyes  upon  his  friend. 

"What  do  you  suppose  he  wants  ?"  he  inquired. 


THE    WAY    TO    GRANDEUR  23 

"Your  eye-teeth,"  returned  Jack  bluntly.  "He 
looks  like  a  mucker  to  me." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  returned  Bobby,  a  trifle  un- 
easily. "You  see,  Jack,  he  isn't  exactly  our  sort, 
and  maybe  we  can't  get  just  the  right  angle  in  judg- 
ing him.  He's  been  nailed  down  to  business  all  his 
life,  you  know,  and  a  fellow  in  that  line  don't  have  a 
chance,  as  I  take  it,  to  cultivate  all  the  little — well, 
say  artificial  graces." 

"Your  father  wasn't  like  him.  He  was  as  near  a 
thoroughbred  as  I  ever  saw,  Bobby,  and  he  was 
nailed  down,  as  you  put  it,  all  his  life." 

"Oh,  you  couldn't  expect  them  all  to  be  like  the 
governor,"  responded  Bobby  instantly,  shocked  at 
the  idea.  "But  this  chap  may  be  no  end  of  a  good 
sort  in  his  style.  No  doubt  at  all  he  merely  came 
over  in  a  friendly  way  to  bid  me  a  sort  of  welcome 
into  the  fraternity  of  business  men,"  and  Bobby  felt 
quite  a  little  thrill  of  pride  in  that  novel  idea.  "By 
George!  Wait  a  minute,"  he  exclaimed  as  still  an- 
other brilliant  thought  struck  him,  and  going  into 
the  other  room  he  said  to  Johnson:  "Please  give 
me  the  letter  addressed:  'To  My  Son  Robert,  Upon 
the  Occasion  of  Mr.  Trimmer's  First  Call.' " 

For  the  first  time  in  days  a  grin  irradiated  John- 
son's face. 

"Nothing  here,  sir,"  he  replied. 


24      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Let  me  go  through  that  file." 

"Strictly  against  orders,  sir,"  said  Johnson. 

"Indeed,"  responded  Bobby  quizzically ;  "I  don't 
like  to  press  the  bet,  Johnson,  but  really  I'd  like  to 
know  who  has  the  say  here." 

"You  have,  sir,  over  everything  except  my  private 
affairs ;  and  that  letter  file  is  my  private  property  and 
its  contents  my  private  trusteeship." 

"I  can  still  take  my  castor  oil  like  a  little  man,  if 
I  have  to,"  Bobby  resignedly  observed.  "I  remember 
that  when  I  was  a  kiddy  the  governor  once  undertook 
to  teach  me  mathematics,  and  he  never  would  let  me 
see  the  answers.  More  than  ever  it  looks  like  it  was 
up  to  Bbbby,"  and  whistling  cheerfully  he  walked 
back  into  his  private  office. 

Johnson  turned  to  Applerod  with  a  snarl. 

"Mr.  Applerod,"  said  he,  "you  know  that  I  almost 
never  swear.  I  am  now  about  to  do  so.  Darn  it !  It's 
a  shame  that  Trimmer  calls  here  again  on  that  old 
scheme  about  which  he  deviled  this  house  for  years, 
and  we  forbidden  to  give  Mr.  Robert  a  word  of  ad- 
vice unless  he  asks  for  it." 

"Why  is  it  a  shame?"  demanded  Applerod.  "I 
always  have  thought  that  Trimmer's  plan  was  a  great 
one." 

So,  all  unprepared,  Bobby  went  forth  that  even- 
ing, to  become  acquainted  with  the  great  plan. 


THE    WAY    TO    GRANDEUR  25 

At  the  restless  Traders'  Club,  where  the  precise 
corridors  and  columns  and  walls  and  ceilings  of  white 
marble  were  indicative  of  great  formality,  men  with 
creases  in  their  brows  wore  their  derbies  on  the  backs 
of  their  heads  and  ceaselessly  talked  shop.  Mr. 
Trimmer,  more  creased  of  brow  than  any  of  them,  was 
drifting  from  group  to  group  with  his  eyes  turned 
anxiously  toward  the  door  until  Bobby  came  in.  Mr. 
Trimmer  was  most  effusively  glad  to  see  the  son  of 
his  old  friend  once  again,  and  lost  no  time  in  seating 
him  at  a  most  secluded  table,  where,  by  the  time  the 
oysters  came  on,  he  was  deep  in  a  catalogue  of  the 
virtues  of  John  Burnit;  and  Bobby,  with  a  very  real 
and  a  very  deep  affection  for  his  father  which  seldom 
found  expression  in  words,  grew  restive.  One  thing 
held  him,  aside  from  his  obligations  as  a  guest.  He 
was  convinced  now  that  his  host's  kindness  was  in 
truth  a  mere  graceful  act  of  welcome,  due  largely  to 
his  father's  standing,  and  the  idea  flattered  him  very 
much.  He  strove  to  look  as  businesslike  as  possible, 
and  thought  again  and  again  upon  his  father;  of 
how  he  had  sat  day  after  day  in  this  stately  dining- 
hall,  honored  and  venerated  among  these  men  wht 
were  striving  still  for  the  ideal  that  he  had  attained. 
It  was  a  good  thought,  and  made  for  pride  of  the 
right  sort.  With  the  entree  Mr.  Trimmer  ordered 
his  favorite  vintage  champagne,  and,  as  it  boiled  up 


26      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

like  molten  amber  in  the  glasses,  so  sturdily  that  the 
center  of  the  surface  kept  constantly  a  full  quarter 
of  an  inch  above  the  sides,  he  waited  anxiously  for 
Bobby  to  sample  it.  Even  Bobby,  long  since  disillu- 
sioned of  such  things  and  grown  abstemious  from 
healthy  choice,  after  a  critical  taste  sipped  slowly 
again  and  again. 

"That's  ripping  good  wine,"  he  acknowledged. 

"There's  only  a  little  over  two  hundred  bottles  of 
it  left  in  the  world,"  Mr.  Trimmer  assured  him,  and 
then  he  waited  for  that  first  glass  to  exert  its  warm- 
ing glow.  He  was  a  good  waiter,  was  Silas  Trimmer, 
and  keenly  sensitive  to  personal  influences.  He  knew 
that  Bobby  had  not  been  in  entire  harmony  with 
him  at  any  period  of  the  evening,  but  after  the  roast 
came  on  —  a  most  careful  roast,  indeed,  prepared 
under  a  certain  formula  upon  which  Mr.  Trimmer 
had  painstakingly  insisted — he  saw  that  he  had  really 
found  his  way  for  a  moment  to  Bobby's  heart  through 
the  channel  provided  by  Nature  for  attacks  upon 
masculine  sympathy,  and  at  that  moment  he  leaned 
forward  with  his  circular  smile,  and  observed: 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Burnit,  I  suppose  your  father 
often  discussed  with  you  the  great  plan  we  evolved 
for  the  Burnet-Trimmer  Arcade?" 

Bobby  almost  blushed  at  the  confession  he  must 
make. 


THE   WAY   TO   GRANDEUR  27 

"I'm  sorry  to  say  that  he  didn't,"  he  owned.  "I 
never  took  the  interest  in  such  things  that  I  ought, 
and  so  I  missed  a  lot  of  confidences  I'd  like  to  have 
had  now." 

"Too  bad,"  sympathized  Mr.  Trimmer,  now  quite 
sure  of  his  ground,  since  he  had  found  that  Bobby 
was  not  posted.  "It  was  a  splendid  plan  we  had. 
You  know,  your  building  and  mine  are  precisely  the 
same  width  and  precisely  in  a  line  with  each  other, 
back  to  back,  with  only  the  alley  separating  us,  the 
Trimmer  establishment  fronting  on  Market  Street 
and  the  Burnit  building  on  Grand.  The  alley  is 
fully  five  feet  below  our  two  floor  lines,  and  we  could, 
I  am  quite  sure,  get  permission  to  bridge  it  at  a 
clearance  of  not  to  exceed  twelve  feet.  By  raising 
the  rear  departments  of  your  store  and  of  mine  a 
foot  or  so,  and  then  building  a  flight  of  broad,  easy 
steps  up  and  down,  we  could  almost  conceal  the  pres- 
ence of  this  bridge  from  the  inside,  and  make  one 
immense  establishment  running  straight  through  from 
Grand  to  Market  Streets.  The  floors  above  the  first, 
of  course,  would  bridge  over  absolutely  level,  and 
the  combined  stores  would  comprise  by  far  the  largest 
establishment  in  the  city.  Of  course,  the  advantage 
of  it  from  an  advertising  standpoint  alone  would  be 
well  worth  while." 

Bobby  could  instantly  see  the  almost  interminable 


28      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

length  of  store  area  thus  presented,  and  it  appealed 
to  his  sense  of  big  things  at  once. 

"What  did  father  say  about  this?"  he  asked. 

"Thought  it  a  brilliant  idea,"  glibly  returned  Mr. 
Trimmer.  "In  fact,  I  think  it  was  he  who  first  sug- 
gested such  a  possibility,  seeing  very  clearly  the  in- 
creased trade  and  the  increased  profits  that  would 
accrue  from  such  an  extension,  which  would,  in  fact, 
be  simply  the  doubling  of  our  already  big  stores 
without  additional  capitalization.  We  worked  out 
two  or  three  plans  for  the  consolidation,  but  in  the 
later  years  your  father  was  very  slow  about  making 
actual  extensions  or  alterations  in  his  merchandising 
business,  preferring  to  expend  his  energies  on  his 
successful  outside  enterprises.  I  feel  sure,  however, 
that  he  would  have  come  to  it  in  time,  for  the  develop- 
ment is  so  logical,  so  much  in  keeping  with  the  busi- 
ness methods  of  the  times." 

Here  again  was  insidious  flattery,  the  insinuation 
that  Bobby  must  be  thoroughly  aware  of  "the  busi- 
ness methods  of  the  times." 

"Of  course,  the  idea  is  new  to  me,"  said  Bobby, 
assuming  as  best  he  could  the  air  of  business  reserve 
which  setemed  appropriate  to  the  occasion;  "but  I 
should  say,  in  a  general  way,  that  I  should  not  care 
to  give  up  the  identity  of  the  John  Burnit  Store." 

"That  is  a  fine  and  a  proper  spirit,"  agreed  Mr. 


THE    WAY    TO    GRANDEUR  29 

Trimmer,  with  great  enthusiasm.  "I  like  to  see  it  in 
a  young  man,  but  I've  no  doubt  that  we  can  arrange 
that  little  matter.  Of  course,  we  would  have  to  in- 
corporate, say,  as  the  Burnit-Trimmer  Mercantile 
Corporation,  but  while  having  that  name  on  the  front 
of  both  buildings,  it  might  not  be  a  bad  idea,  for 
business  as  well  as  sentimental  reasons,  to  keep  the 
old  signs  at  the  tops  of  both,  just  as  they  now  are. 
Those  are  little  details  to  discuss  later;  but  as  the 
stock  of  the  new  company,  based  upon  the  present 
invoice  values  of  our  respective  concerns,  would  be 
practically  all  in  your  hands  and  mine,  this  would  be 
a  very  amicable  and  easily  arranged  matter.  I  tell 
you,  Mr.  Burnit,  this  is  a  tremendous  plan,  attractive 
to  the  public  and  immensely  profitable  to  us,  and  I  do 
not  know  of  anything  you  could  do  that  would  so 
well  as  this  show  you  to  be  a  worthy  successor  to  John 
Burnit ;  for,  of  course,  it  would  scarcely  be  a  credit  to 
you  to  carry  on  your  father's  business  without  change 
or  advance." 

It  was  the  best  and  the  most  crafty  argument  Mr. 
Trimmer  had  used,  and  Bobby  carried  away  from  the 
Traders'  Club  a  glowing  impression  of  this  point. 
His  father  had  built  up  this  big  business  by  his  own 
unaided  efforts.  Should  Bobby  leave  that  legacy  just 
where  he  had  found  it,  or  should  he  carry  it  on  to  still 
greater  heights?  The  answer  was  obvious. 


CHAPTER  IV 

AGNES    EMPHATICALLY    DECIDES    THAT    SHE   DOES    NOT 
LIKE   A    CERTAIN    PERSON 

AT  the  theater  that  evening,  Bobby,  to  his 
vexation,  found  Agnes  Elliston  walking  in 
the  promenade  foyer  with  the  well-set-up 
stranger.  He  passed  her  with  a  nod  and  slipped 
moodily  into  the  rear  of  the  Elliston  box,  where  Aunt 
Constance,  perennially  young,  was  entertaining  Nick 
Allstyne  and  Jack  Starlett,  and  keeping  them  at  a 
keen  wit's  edge,  too.  Bobby  gave  them  the  most  per- 
functory of  greetings,  and,  sitting  back  by  himself, 
sullenly  moped.  He  grumbled  to  himself  that  he 
had  a  headache;  the  play  was  a  humdrum  affair; 
Trimmer  was  a  bore;  the  proposed  consolidation  had 
suddenly  lost  its  prismatic  coloring;  the  Traders' 
Club  was  crude ;  Starlett  and  Allstyne  were  utterly 
frivolous.  All  this  because  Agnes  was  out  in  the 
foyer  with  a  very  likely-looking  young  man. 

She  did  not  return  until  the  end  of  that  act,  and 
found  Bobby  ready  to  go,  pleading  early  morning 

business. 

30 


AGNES    DECIDES  81 

"Is  it  important?"  she  asked. 

"Who's  the  chap  with  the  silky  mustache?"  he 
suddenly  demanded,  unable  to  forbear  any  longer. 
"He's  a  new  one." 

The  eyes  of  Agnes  gleamed  mischievously. 

"Bobby,  I'm  astonished  at  your  manners,"  she 
chided  him.  "Now  tell  me  what  you've  been  doing 
with  yourself." 

"Trying  to  grow  up  into  John  Burnit's  truly  son," 
he  told  her  with  some  trace  of  pompous  pride,  being 
ready  in  advance  to  accept  his  rebuke  meekly,  as  he 
always  had  to  do,  and  being  quite  ready  to  cover  up 
his  grievous  error  with  a  change  of  topic.  "I  had  no 
idea  that  business  could  so  grip  a  fellow.  But  what 
I'd  like  to  find  out  just  now  is  who  is  my  trustee?  It 
must  have  been  somebody  with  horse  sense,  or  the 
governor  would  not  have  appointed  whoever  it  was. 
I'm  not  going  to  ask  anything  I'm  forbidden  to  know, 
but  I  want  some  advice.  Now,  how  shall  I  learn  who 
it  is?" 

"Well,"  replied  Agnes  thoughtfully,  "about  the 
only  plan  I  can  suggest  is  that  you  ask  your  father's 
legal  and  business  advisers." 

He  positively  beamed  down  at  her. 

"You're  the  dandy  girl,  all  right,"  he  said  ad- 
miringly. "Now,  if  you  would  only " 

"Bobby,"  she  interrupted  him,  "do  you  know  that 


32      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

we  are  standing  up  here  in  a  box,  with  something  like 
a  thousand  people,  possibly,  turned  in  our  direction?" 

He  suddenly  realized  that  they  were  alone,  the 
others  having  filed  out  into  the  promenade,  and,  plac- 
ing a  chair  for  her  in  the  extreme  rear  corner  of  the 
box,  where  he  could  fence  her  off,  sat  down  beside  her. 
He  began  to  describe  to  her  the  plan  of  Silas  Trim- 
mer, and  as  he  went  on  his  enthusiasm  mounted.  The 
thing  had  caught  his  fancy.  If  he  could  only  in- 
crease the  profits  of  the  John  Burnit  Store  in  the 
very  first  year,  it  would  be  a  big  feather  in  his  cap. 
It  would  be  precisely  what  his  father  would  have  de- 
sired! Agnes  listened  attentively  all  through  the 
fourth  act  to  his  glowing  conception  of  what  the 
reorganized  John  Burnit  Company  would  be  like.  He 
was  perfectly  contented  now.  His  headache  was 
gone;  such  occasional  glimpses  as  he  caught  of  the 
play  were  delightful;  Mr.  Trimmer  was  a  genius; 
the  Traders'  Club  a  fascinating  introduction  to  a 
new  life;  Starlett  and  Allstyne  a  joyous  relief  to  him 
after  the  sordid  cares  of  business.  In  a  word,  Agnes 
was  with  him. 

"Do  you  think  your  father  would  accept  this  prop- 
osition ?"  she  asked  him  after  he  was  all  through. 

"I  think  he  would  at  my  age,"  decided  Bobby 
promptly. 

"That  is,  if  he  had  been  brought  up  as  you  have," 


AGNES    DECIDES  S3 

she  laughed.  "I  think  I  should  study  a  long  time 
over  it,  Bobby,  before  I  made  any  such  important  and 
sweeping  change  as  this  must  necessarily  be." 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  agreed  with  an  assumption  of  deep 
conservatism ;  "of  course  I'll  think  it  over  well,  and 
I'll  take  good,  sound  advice  on  it." 

"I  have  never  seen  Mr.  Trimmer,"  mused  Agnes. 
"I  seldom  go  into  his  store,  for  there  always  seems  to 
me  something  shoddy  about  the  whole  place;  but  to- 
morrow I  think  I  shall  make  it  a  point  to  secure  a 
glimpse  of  him." 

Bobby  was  delighted.  Agnes  had  always  been 
interested  in  whatever  interested  him,  but  never  so 
absorbedly  so  as  now,  it  seemed.  He  almost  forgot 
the  stranger  in  his  pleasure.  He  forgot  him  still 
more  when,  dismissing  his  chauffeur,  he  seated  Agnes 
in  the  front  of  the  car  beside  him,  with  Starlett  and 
Allstyne  and  Aunt  Constance  in  the  tonneau,  and 
went  whirling  through  the  streets  and  up  the  avenue. 
It  was  but  a  brief  trip,  not  over  a  half-hour,  and 
they  had  scarcely  a  chance  to  exchange  a  word;  but 
just  to  be  up  front  there  alone  with  her  meant  a 
whole  lot  to  Bobby. 

Afterward  he  took  the  other  fellows  down  to  the 
gymnasium,  where  Biff  Bates  drew  him  to  one  side. 

"Look  here,  old  pal !"  said  Bates.  "I  saw  you  real 
chummy  with  T.  W.  Tight-Wad  Trimmer  to-night." 


34      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Yes?"  admitted  Bobby  interrogatively. 

"Well,  you  know  I  don't  go  around  with  my  ham- 
mer out,  but  I  want  to  put  you  wise  to  this  mut.  He's 
in  with  a  lot  of  political  graft,  for  one  thing,  and 
he's  a  sure  thing  guy  for  another.  He  likes  to  take 
a  flyer  at  the  bangtails  a  few  times  a  season,  and  last 
summer  he  welshed  on  Joe  Poog's  book;  claimed  Joe 
misunderstood  his  fingers  for  two  thousand  in  place 
of  two  hundred." 

"Well,  maybe  there  was  a  mistake,"  said  Bobby, 
loath  to  believe  such  a  monstrous  charge  against  any 
one  whom  he  knew. 

"Mistake  nawthin',"  insisted  Biff.  "Joe  Poog 
don't  take  finger  bets  for  hundreds,  and  Trimmer 
never  did  bet  that  way.  He's  a  born  welsher,  anyhow. 
He  looks  the  part,  and  I  just  want  to  tell  you,  Bobby, 
that  if  you  go  to  the  mat  with  this  crab  you'll  get  up 
with  the  marks  of  his  pinchers  on  your  windpipe; 
that's  all." 

Early  the  next  morning — that  is,  at  about  ten 
o'clock — Bobby  bounced  energetically  into  the  office 
of  Barrister  and  Coke,  where  old  Mr.  Barrister,  who 
had  been  his  father's  lawyer  for  a  great  many  years, 
received  him  with  all  the  unbending  grace  of  an  ebony 
cane. 

"I  have  come  to  find  out  who  were  the  trustees  ap- 
pointed by  my  father,  Mr.  Barrister,"  began  Bobby, 


AGNES    DECIDES  35 

with  a  cheerful  air  of  expecting  to  be  informed  at 
once,  "not  that  I  wish  to  inquire  about  the  estate,  but 
that  I  need  some  advice  on  entirely  different  matters." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  serve  you  with  any  legal  advice 
that  you  may  need,"  offered  Mr.  Barrister,  patting 
his  finger-tips  gently  together. 

"Are  you  the  trustee  ?" 

"No,  sir" — this  with  a  dusty  smile. 

"Who  is,  then?" 

"The  only  information  which  I  am  at  liberty  to 
give  you  upon  that  point,"  said  Mr.  Barrister  drily, 
"is  that  contained  in  your  father's  will.  Would  you 
care  to  examine  a  copy  of  that  document  again  ?" 

"No,  thanks,"  declined  Bobby  politely.  "It's  too 
truthful  for  comfort." 

From  there  he  went  straight  to  his  own  place  of 
business,  where  he  asked  the  same  question  of  John- 
son. In  reply,  Mr.  Johnson  produced,  from  his  own 
personal  and  private  index-file,  an  oblong  gray  en- 
velope addressed: 

To  My  Son  Robert, 

Upon  His  Inquiring  About  the  Trusteeship  of 
My  Estate 

Opening  this  in  the  privacy  of  his  own  office,  Bobby 
read: 


36      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"As  stated  in  my  will,  it  is  none  of  your  present 
business." 


"Up  to  Bobby  again,"  the  son  commented  aloud. 
"Well,  Governor,"  and  his  shoulders  straightened 
while  his  eyes  snapped,  "if  you  can  stand  it,  I  can. 
Hereafter  I  shall  take  my  own  advice,  and  if  I  lose 
I  shall  know  how  to  find  the  chap  who's  to  blame." 

He  had  an  opportunity  to  "go  it  alone"  that  very 
morning,  when  Johnson  and  Applerod  came  in  to  him 
together  with  a  problem.  Was  or  was  not  that  Chi- 
cago branch  to  be  opened?  The  elder  Mr.  Burnit  had 
considered  it  most  gravely,  but  had  left  the  matter 
undecided.  Mr.  Applerod  was  very  keenly  in  favor 
of  it,  Mr.  Johnson  as  earnestly  against  it,  and  in 
his  office  they  argued  the  matter  with  such  heat  that 
Bobby,  accepting  a  typed  statement  of  the  figures  in 
the  case,  virtually  turned  them  out. 

"When  must  you  have  a  decision?"  he  demanded. 

"To-morrow.  We  must  wire  either  our  acceptance 
or  rejection  of  the  lease." 

"Very  well,"  said  Bobby,  quite  elated  that  he  was 
carrying  the  thing  off  with  an  air  and  a  tone  so  crisp ; 
"just  leave  it  to  me,  will  you?" 

He  waded  through  the  statement  uncomprehend- 
ingly.  Here  was  a  problem  which  was  covered  and 
still  not  covered  by  his  father's  observations  anent 


AGNES    DECIDES  37 

Johnson  and  Applerod.  It  was  a  matter  for  wrang- 
ling, obviously  enough,  but  there  was  no  difference  to 
split.  It  was  a  case  of  deciding  either  yes  or  no. 
For  the  balance  of  the  time  until  Jack  Starlett  called 
for  him  at  twelve-thirty,  he  puzzled  earnestly  and 
soberly  over  the  thing,  and  next  morning  the  problem 
still  weighed  upon  him  when  he  turned  in  at  the  office. 
He  could  see  as  he  passed  through  the  outer  room  that 
both  Johnson  and  Applerod  were  furtively  eying 
him,  but  he  walked  past  them  whistling.  When  he 
had  closed  his  own  door  behind  him  he  drew  again  that 
mass  of  data  toward  him  and  struggled  against  the 
chin-high  tide.  Suddenly  he  shoved  the  papers  aside, 
and,  taking  a  half-dollar  from  his  pocket,  flipped  it 
on  the  floor.  Eagerly  he  leaned  over  to  look  at  it. 
Tails !  With  a  sigh  of  relief  he  put  the  coin  back  in 
his  pocket  and  lit  a  cigarette.  About  half  an  hour 
later  the  committee  of  two  came  solemnly  in  to  see 
him. 

"Have  you  decided  to  open  the  Chicago  branch, 
sir?"  asked  Johnson. 

"Not  this  year,"  said  Bobby  coolly,  and  handed 
back  the  data.  "I  wish,  Mr.  Johnson,  you  would 
appoint  a  page  to  be  in  constant  attendance  upon 
this  room." 

Back  at  their  own  desks  Johnson  gloated  in  calm 
triumph. 


38      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"It  may  be  quite  possible  that  Mr.  Robert  may 
turn  out  to  be  a  duplicate  of  his  father,"  he  opined. 

"I  don't  know,"  confessed  Applerod,  crestfallen. 
"I  had  thought  that  he  would  be  more  willing  to 
take  a  sporting  chance." 

Mr.  Johnson  snorted.  Mr.  Applerod,  who  had 
never  bet  two  dollars  on  any  proposition  in  his  life, 
considered  himself  very  much  of  a  sporting  dis- 
position. 

Savagely  in  love  with  his  new  assertiveness  Bbbby 
called  on  Agnes  that  evening. 

"I  saw  Mr.  Trimmer  to-day,"  she  told  him.  "I 
don't  like  him." 

"I  didn't  want  you  to,"  he  replied  with  a  grin. 
"You  like  too  many  people  now." 

"But  I'm  serious,  Bobby,"  she  protested,  uncon- 
sciously clinging  to  his  hand  as  they  sat  down  upon 
the  divan.  "I  wouldn't  enter  into  any  business  ar- 
rangements with  him.  I  don't  know  just  what  there 
is  about  him  that  repels  me,  but — well,  I  don't  like 
him!" 

"Can't  say  I've  fallen  in  love  with  him  myself," 
he  replied.  "But,  Agnes,  if  a  fellow  only  did  busi- 
ness with  the  men  his  nearest  women-folks  liked,  there 
wouldn't  be  much  business  done." 

"There  wouldn't  be  so  many  losses,"  she  retorted. 

"Bound  to  have  the  last  word,  of  course,"  he  an- 


AGNES    DECIDES  39 

swered,  taking  refuge  in  that  old  and  quite  false  slur 
against  women  in  general;  for  a  man  suffers  from 
his  spleen  if  he  can  not  put  the  quietus  on  every  argu- 
ment. "But,  honestly,  I  don't  fear  Mr.  Trimmer. 
I've  been  inquiring  into  this  stock  company  business. 
We  are  each  to  have  stock  in  the  new  company,  if  we 
form  one,  in  exact  proportion  to  the  invoices  of  our 
respective  establishments.  Well,  the  Trimmer  con- 
cern can't  possibly  invoice  as  much  as  we  shall,  and 
I'll  have  the  majority  of  stock,  which  is  the  same  as 
holding  all  the  trumps.  I  had  Mr.  Barrister  explain 
all  that  to  me.  With  the  majority  of  stock  you  can 
have  everything  your  own  way,  and  the  other  chap 
can't  even  protest.  Seems  sort  of  a  shame,  too." 

"I  don't  like  him,"  declared  Agnes. 

The  ensuing  week  Bobby  spent  mostly  on  the  polo 
match,  though  he  called  religiously  at  the  office  every 
morning,  coming  down  a  few  minutes  earlier  each 
day.  It  was  an  uneasy  week,  too,  as  well  as  a  busy 
one,  for  twice  during  its  progress  he  saw  Agnes 
driving  with  the  unknown ;  and  the  fact  that  in  bothi 
instances  a  handsome  young  lady  was  with  them 
did  not  seem  to  mend  matters  much.  He  was  aston- 
ished to  find  that  losing  the  great  polo  match  did  not 
distress  him  at  all.  A  year  before  it  would  have 
broken  his  heart,  but  the  multiplicity  of  new  interests 
had  changed  him  entirely.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he 


40      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

had  been  long  ripe  for  the  change,  though  he  had  not 
known  it.  As  he  had  matured,  the  blood  of  his  hered- 
ity had  begun  to  clamor  for  its  expression ;  that  was 
all. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  next  week  Mr.  Trimmer 
came  in  to  see  him  again,  with  a  roll  of  drawings 
under  his  arm.  The  drawings  displayed  the  proposed 
new  bridge  in  elevation  and  in  cross  section.  They 
showed  the  total  stretch  of  altered  store-rooms  from 
street  to  street,  and  cleverly-drawn  perspectives  made 
graphically  real  that  splendid  length.  They  were 
accompanied  by  an  estimate  of  the  cost,  and  also  by 
a  permit  from  the  city  to  build  the  bridge.  With 
these  were  the  preliminary  papers  for  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  new  company,  and  Bobby,  by  this  time  in- 
tensely interested  and  convinced  that  his  interest  was 
business  acumen,  went  over  each  detail  with  contracted 
brow  and  with  kindling  enthusiasm. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  of  that  morning  when  Silas  Trim- 
mer had  found  Bobby  at  his  desk ;  by  eleven  Mr. 
Johnson  and  Mr.  Applerod,  in  the  outer  office,  were 
quite  unable  to  work;  by  twelve  they  were  snarling 
at  each  other;  at  twelve-thirty  Johnson  ventured  to 
poke  his  head  in  at  the  door,  framing  some  trivial 
excuse  as  he  did  so,  but  found  the  two  merchants  with 
their  heads  bent  closely  over  the  advantages  of  the 
great  combined  stores.  At  a  quarter-past  one,  return- 


AGNES    DECIDES  41 

ing  from  a  hasty  lunch,  Johnson  tiptoed  to  the  door 
again.  He  still  heard  an  insistent,  high-pitched  voice 
inside.  Mr.  Trimmer  was  doing  all  the  talking.  He 
had  explained  and  explained  until  his  tongue  was 
dry,  and  Bobby,  with  a  full  sense  of  the  importance 
of  his  decision,  was  trying  to  clear  away  the  fog  that' 
had  grown  up  in  his  brain.  Mr.  Trimmer  was  press- 
ing him  for  a  decision.  Bobby  suddenly  slipped  his 
hand  in  his  pocket,  and,  unseen,  secured  a  half-dollar, 
which  he  shook  in  his  hand  under  the  table.  Opening 
his  palm  he  furtively  looked  at  the  coin.  Heads ! 

"Get  your  papers  ready,  Mr.  Trimmer,"  he  an- 
nounced, as  one  finally  satisfied  by  good  and  sufficient 
argument,  "we'll  form  the  organization  as  soon  as 
you  like." 

No  sooner  had  he  come  to  this  decision  than  he  felt 
a  strange  sense  of  elation.  He  had  actually  consum- 
mated a  big  business  deal!  He  had  made  a  positive 
step  in  the  direction  of  carrying  the  John  Burnit 
Store  beyond  the  fame  it  had  possessed  at  the  time 
his  father  had  turned  it  over  to  him!  Since  he  had 
stiffened  his  back,  he  did  not  condescend  to  take  John- 
son and  Applerod  into  his  confidence,  though  those 
two  gentlemen  were  quivering  to  receive  it,  but  he 
did  order  Johnson  to  allow  Mr.  Trimmer's  representa- 
tives to  go  over  the  John  Burnit  books  and  to  verify 
their  latest  invoice,  together  with  the  purchases  and 


42      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

sales  since  the  date  of  that  stock-taking.  To  Mr.  Ap- 
plerod  he  assigned  the  task  of  making  a  like  exam- 
ination of  the  Trimmer  establishment,  and  each  day 
felt  more  like  a  really-truly  business  man.  He 
affected  the  Traders'  Club  now,  formed  an  entirely 
new  set  of  acquaintances,  and  learned  to  go  about 
the  stately  rooms  of  that  magnificent  business  annex 
with  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head  and  creases  in 
his  brow. 

Even  before  the  final  papers  were  completed,  a 
huge  gang  of  workmen,  consisting  of  as  many  arti- 
sans as  could  be  crowded  on  the  job  without  standing 
on  one  another's  feet,  began  to  construct  the  elaborate 
bridge  which  was  to  connect  the  two  stores,  and  Mr. 
Trimmer's  publicity  department  was  already  secur- 
ing column  after  column  of  space  in  the  local  papers, 
some  of  it  paid  matter  and  some  gratis,  wherein  it 
appeared  that  the  son  of  old  John  Burnit  had  proved 
himself  to  be  a  live,  progressive  young  man  —  a 
worthy  heir  of  so  enterprising  a  father. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEREIN  BOBBY  ATTENDS  A  STOCK-HOLDERS*  MEETING 
AND  CUTS  A  WISDOM-TOOTH 

WITHIN  a  very  few  days  was  completed 
the  complicated  legal  machinery  which 
threw  the  John  Burnit  Store  and 
Trimmer  and  Company  into  the  hands  of  "The  Bur- 
nit-Trimmer  Merchandise  Corporation"  as  a  holding 
and  operating  concern.  The  John  Burnit  Store  went 
into  that  consolidation  at  an  invoice  value  of  two 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  dollars,  Trimmer  and 
Company  at  two  hundred  and  forty  thousand;  and 
Bobby  was  duly  pleased.  He  had  the  majority  of 
stock!  On  the  later  suggestion  of  Mr.  Trimmer, 
however,  sixty  thousand  dollars  of  additional  capital 
was  taken  into  the  concern. 

"The  alterations,  expansions,  new  departments  and 
publicity  will  compel  the  command  of  about  that 
much  money,"  Mr.  Trimmer  patiently  explained; 
"and  while  we  could  appropriate  that  amount  from 
our  respective  concerns,  we  ought  not  to  weaken  our 
capital,  particularly  as  financial  affairs  throughout 
43 


44      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

the  country  are  so  unsettled.  This  is  not  a  brisk 
commercial  year,  nor  can  it  be." 

"Yes,"  admitted  Bobby,  "I've  heard  something  of 
all  this  hard-times  talk.  I  know  Nick  Allstyne  sold 
his  French  racer,  and  Nick's  supposed  to  be  worth 
no  end  of  money." 

"Exactly,"  agreed  Mr.  Trimmer  dryly.  "This 
sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  stock,  Mr.  Burnit, 
I  am  quite  sure  that  I  can  place  with  immediate  pur- 
chasers, and  if  you  will  leave  the  matter  to  me  I  can 
have  it  all  represented  in  our  next  meeting  without 
any  bother  at  all  to  you." 

"Very  kind  of  you,  I  am  sure,"  agreed  Bobby, 
thankful  that  this  trifling  detail  was  not  to  bore  him. 

And  so  it  was  that  the  Burnit-Trimmer  Merchan- 
dise Corporation  was  incorporated  at  five  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  dollars.  It  was  considerably  later 
when  Bobby  realized  the  significance  of  the  fact  that 
the  subscribers  to  the  additional  capitalization  con- 
sisted of  Mr.  Trimmer's  son,  his  son-in-law,  his  head 
bookkeeper,  his  confidential  secretary  and  his  cousin, 
all  of  whom  had  also  been  minor  stock-holders  in  the 
concern  of  Trimmer  and  Company. 

It  was  upon  the  day  preceding  the  first  stock-hold- 
ers' meeting  of  the  reorganized  company  that  Bobby, 
quite  proud  of  the  fact  that  he  had  acted  independ- 
ently of  them,  made  the  formal  announcement  to 


A    STOCK-HOLDERS'    MEETING        45 

Johnson  and  Applerod  that  the  great  consolidation 
had  been  effected. 

"Beginning  with  to-morrow  morning,  Mr.  John- 
son," said  he  to  that  worthy,  "the  John  Burnit  Store 
will  be  merged  into  the  Burnit-Trimmer  Merchan- 
dise Corporation,  and  Mr.  Trimmer  will  doubtless 
send  his  secretary  to  confer  with  you  about  an  ad- 
justment of  the  clerical  work." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Johnson  dismally,  and  rose 
to  open  the  filing  case  behind  him.  With  his  hand  in 
the  case  he  paused  and  turned  a  most  woebegone 
countenance  to  the  junior  Burnit.  "We  shall  be  very 
regretful,  Mr.  Applerod  and  myself,  to  lose  our  posi- 
tions, sir,"  he  stated.  "We  have  grown  up  with  the 
business  from  boyhood." 

"Nonsense!"  exploded  Applerod.  "We  would  be 
regretful  if  that  were  to  occur,  but  there  is  nothing 
of  the  sort  possible.  Why,  Mr.  Burnit,  I  think  this 
consolidation  is  the  greatest  thing  that  ever  happened. 
I've  been  in  favor  of  it  for  years ;  and  as  for  its  los- 
ing me  my  position —  Pooh!"  and  he  snapped  his 
fingers. 

"Applerod  is  quite  right,  Mr.  Johnson,"  said 
Bobby  severely.  "Nothing  of  the  sort  is  contem- 
plated. Yourself  and  Mr.  Applerod  are  to  remain 
with  me  as  long  as  fair  treatment  and  liberal  pay  and 
personal  attachment  can  induce  you  to  do  so." 


46      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Johnson  dryly,  but 
he  shook  his  head,  and  from  the  file  produced  one  of 
the  familiar  gray  envelopes. 

Bobby  eyed  it  askance  as  it  came  toward  him,  and 
winced  as  he  saw  the  inscription.  He  was  beginning 
to  dread  these  missives.  They  seemed  to  follow  him 
about,  to  menace  him,  to  give  him  a  constant  feeling 
of  guilt.  Nevertheless,  he  took  this  one  quite  calmly 
and  walked  into  his  own  room.  It  was  addressed : 

To  My  Son, 

Upon  the  Occasion  of  His  Completing  a  Consolidation 
with  Silas  Trimmer 

and  it  read : 

"When  a  man  devils  you  for  years  to  enter  a  busi- 
ness deal  with  him,  you  may  rest  assured  that  man  has 
more  to  gain  by  it  than  you  have.  Aside  from  his 
wormwood  business  jealousy  of  me,  Silas  Trimmer 
has  wanted  this  Grand  Street  entrance  to  his  store  for 
more  than  the  third  of  a  century;  now  he  has  it. 
He'll  have  your  store  next." 

"Look  here,  Governor,"  protested  Bobby  aloud,  to 
his  lively  remembrance  of  his  father  as  he  might  have 
stood  in  that  very  room,  "I  call  this  rather  rubbing 
it  in.  It's  a  bit  unsportsmanlike.  It's  almost  like 
laying  a  trap  for  a  chap  who  doesn't  know  the  game," 


A    STOCK-HOLDERS'    MEETING        47 

and,  rankling  with  a  sense  of  injustice,  he  went  out 
to  Johnson. 

"I  say,  Johnson,"  he  complained,  "it's  rather  my 
fault  for  being  too  stubborn  to  ask  about  it,  but  if 
you  knew  that  Mr.  Trimmer  was  trying  to  work  a 
game  on  me  that  was  dangerous  to  the  business,  why 
didn't  you  volunteer  to  explain  it  to  me ;  to  forewarn 
me  and  give  me  a  chance  for  judgment  with  all  the 
pros  and  cons  in  front  of  me  ?" 

"From  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  Mr.  Burnit,"  said 
Johnson  with  feeling,  "I  should  like  to  have  done  it; 
but  it  was  forbidden." 

He  already  had  lying  before  him  another  of  the 
gray  envelopes,  and  this  he  solemnly  handed  over.  It 
was  addressed: 

To  My  Son, 

Upon  His  Complaining  that  Johnson  Gave  Him  No 
Warning  Concerning  Silas  Trimmer 

The  message  it  contained  was : 

"It  takes  hard  chiseling  to  make  a  man,  but  if  the 
material  is  the  right  grain  the  tool-marks  won't  show. 
If  I  had  wanted  you  merely  to  make  money,  I  would 
have  left  the  business  entirely  in  the  hands  of  John- 
son and  Applerod.  But  there  is  no  use  to  put  off 
pulling  a  tooth.  It  only  hurts  worse  in  the  end." 


48      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

When  Bobby  left  the  office  he  felt  like  walking  in 
the  middle  of  the  street  to  avoid  alley  corners,  since 
he  was  unable  to  divine  from  what  direction  the  next 
brick  might  come.  He  had  taken  the  business  to  heart 
more  than  he  had  imagined  that  he  would,  and  the 
very  fact  of  his  father's  having  foreseen  that  he 
would  succumb  to  this  consolidation  made  him  give 
grave  heed  to  the  implied  suggestion  that  he  would 
be  a  heavy  loser  by  it.  He  had  an  engagement  with 
Allstyne  and  Starlett  at  the  Idlers'  that  afternoon, 
but  they  found  him  most  preoccupied,  and  openly 
voted  him  a  bore.  He  called  on  Agnes  Elliston,  but 
learned  that  she  was  out  driving,  and  he  savagely 
assured  himself  that  he  knew  who  was  handling  the 
reins.  He  dined  at  the  Traders',  and,  for  the  first 
time  since  he  had  begun  to  frequent  that  place,  the 
creases  in  his  brow  were  real. 

Later  in  the  evening  he  dropped  around  to  see  Biff 
Bates.  In  the  very  center  of  the  gymnasium  he  found 
that  gentleman  engaged  in  giving  a  preliminary  box- 
ing lesson  to  a  spider-like  new  pupil,  who  was  none 
other  than  Silas  Trimmer.  Responding  to  Biff's 
cheerful  grin  and  Mr.  Trimmer's  sheepish  one  with 
what  politeness  he  could  muster,  Bobby  glumly  went 
home. 

On  the  next  morning  occurred  the  first  stock-hold- 
ers' meeting  of  the  Burnit-Trimmer  Merchandise  Cor- 


A    STOCK-HOLDERS'    MEETING         49 

poration,  which  Bobby  attended  with  some  feeling  of 
importance,  for,  with  his  twenty-six  hundred  shares, 
he  was  the  largest  individual  stock-holder  present. 
That  was  what  had  reassured  him  overnight:  the 
magic  "majority  of  stock!"  Mr.  Trimmer  only  had 
twenty-four  hundred,  and  Bobby  could  swing  things 
as  he  pleased.  His  father,  omniscient  as  he  was,  must 
certainly  have  failed  to  foresee  this  fact.  In  his  sim- 
plicity of  such  matters  and  his  general  unsuspicious- 
ness,  Bobby  had  not  calculated  that  if  the  additional 
six  hundred  shares  were  to  vote  solidly  with  Mr. 
Trimmer  against  him,  his  twenty-six  hundred  shares 
would  be  confronted  by  three  thousand,  and  so  ren- 
dered paltry. 

Mr.  Trimmer  was  delighted  to  see  young  Mr. 
Burnit.  This  was  a  great  occasion  indeed,  both  for 
the  John  Burnit  Store  and  for  Trimmer  and  Com- 
pany, and,  in  the  opinion  of  Mr.  Trimmer,  his  circu- 
lar smile  very  much  in  evidence,  John  Burnit  himself 
would  have  been  proud  to  see  this  day !  Mr.  Smythe, 
Mr.  Trimmer's  son-in-law,  also  thought  it  a  great 
day;  Mr.  Weldon,  Mr.  Trimmer's  head  bookkeeper, 
thought  it  a  great  day ;  Mr.  Harvey,  Mr.  Trimmer's 
confidential  secretary,  and  Mr.  U.  G.  Trimmer,  Mr. 
Silas  Trimmer's  cousin,  shared  this  pleasant  impres- 
sion. 

In  the  beginning  the  organization  was  without  form 


50      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

or  void,  as  all  such  organizations  are,  but  Mr.  Trim- 
mer, having  an  extremely  clear  idea  of  what  was  to 
be  accomplished,  proposed  that  Mr.  Burnit  accept 
the  chair  pro  tern. — where  he  would  be  out  of  the  way. 
The  unanimous  support  which  this  motion  received 
was  quite  gratifying  to  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Burnit, 
proving  at  once  that  his  fears  had  been  not  only 
groundless  but  ungenerous,  and,  in  accepting  the 
chair,  he  made  them  what  he  considered  a  very  neat 
little  speech  indeed,  striving  the  while  to  escape  that 
circular  smile  with  its  diameter  of  yellow  teeth  and 
its  intersecting  crescent  of  stiff  mustache ;  for  he  dis- 
liked meanly  to  imagine  that  smile  to  have  a  sar- 
castic turn  to-day.  At  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Trim- 
mer, Mr.  Weldon  accepted  the  post  of  secretary  pro 
tern.  Mr.  Trimmer  then,  with  a  nicely  bound  black 
book  in  his  hand,  rose  to  propose  the  adoption  of 
the  stock  constitution  and  by-laws  which  were  neatly 
printed  in  the  opening  pages  of  this  minute-book, 
and  in  the  articles  of  which  he  had  made  some  trifling 
^amendments.  Mr.  Weldon,  by  request,  read  these 
most  carefully  and  conscientiously,  making  quite 
plain  that  the  entire  working  management  of  the 
consolidated  stores  was  to  be  under  the  direct  charge 
of  a  general  manager  and  an  assistant  general  man- 
ager, who  were  to  be  appointed  and  have  their  sal- 
aries fixed  by  the  board  of  directors,  as  was  meet  and 


A    STOCK-HOLDERS'    MEETING        51 

proper.  Gravely  the  stock-holders  voted  upon  the 
adoption  of  the  constitution  and  by-laws,  and,  with 
a  feeling  of  pride,  as  the  secretary  called  his  name, 
Bobby  cast  his  first  vote  in  the  following  conven- 
tional form: 

"Aye — twenty-six  hundred  shares." 

Mr.  Trimmer  followed,  voting  twenty-four  hun- 
dred shares ;  then  Mr.  Smythe,  three  hundred ;  Mr. 
Weldon,  fifty;  Mr.  Harvey,  fifty;  Mr.  U.  G.  Trim- 
mer, fifty ;  Mr.  Thomas  Trimmer,  whose  proxy 
was  held  by  his  father,  one  hundred  and  fifty;  mak- 
ing in  all  a  total  of  fifty-six  hundred  shares  unanim- 
ously cast  in  favor  of  the  motion;  and  Bobby,  after 
having  roundly  announced  the  result,  felt  that  he  was 
conducting  himself  with  vast  parliamentary  credit 
and  lit  a  cigarette  with  much  satisfaction. 

Mr.  Trimmer,  twirling  his  thumbs,  displayed  no 
surprise,  nor  even  gratification,  when  Mr.  Smythe 
almost  immediately  put  him  in  nomination  for  presi- 
dent. Mr.  Weldon  promptly  seconded  that  nomina- 
tion. Mr.  Harvey  moved  that  the  nominations  for  the 
presidency  be  closed.  Mr.  U.  G.  Trimmer  seconded 
that  motion,  which  was  carried  unanimously;  and 
with  no  ado  whatever  Mr.  Silas  Trimmer  was  made 
president  of  the  Burnit-Trimmer  Merchandise  Cor- 
poration, Mr.  Burnit  having  most  courteously  cast 
twenty-six  hundred  votes  for  him;  for  was  not  Mr. 


52      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Trimmer  entitled  to  this  honor  by  right  of  seniority? 
In  similar  manner  Mr.  Burnit,  quite  pleased,  and  not 
realizing  that  the  vice-president  of  a  corporation  has 
a  much  less  active  and  influential  position  than  the 
night  watchman,  was  elected  to  the  second  highest 
office,  while  Mr.  Weldon  was  made  secretary  and  Mr. 
Smythe  treasurer.  Mr.  Harvey,  Mr.  U.  G.  Trimmer 
and  Mr.  Thomas  Trimmer  were,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  elected  members  of  the  board  of  directors, 
the  four  officers  already  elected  constituting  the  re- 
maining members  of  the  board.  There  seemed  but 
very  little  business  remaining  for  the  stock -holders  to 
do,  so  they  adjourned;  then,  the  members  of  the  board 
being  all  present  and  having  waived  in  writing  all 
formal  notification,  the  directors  went  into  immediate 
session,  with  Mr.  Trimmer  in  the  chair  and  Mr. 
Weldon  in  charge  of  the  bright  and  shining  new 
book  of  minutes. 

The  first  move  of  that  body,  after  opening  the 
meeting  in  due  form,  was  made  by  Mr.  Harvey,  who 
proposed  that  Mr.  Silas  Trimmer  be  constituted  gen- 
eral manager  of  the  consolidated  stores  at  a  salary 
of  fifty  thousand  dollars  per  year,  a  motion  which 
was  immediately  seconded  by  Mr.  U.  G.  Trimmer. 

Bobby  was  instantly  upon  his  feet.  Even  with  his 
total  lack  of  experience  in  such  matters  there  was 
something  about  this  that  struck  him  as  overdrawn, 


A    STOCK-HOLDERS'    MEETING        53 

and  he  protested  that  fancy  salaries  should  have  no 
place  in  the  reorganized  business  until  experience 
had  proved  that  the  business  would  stand  it.  He 
was  very  much  in  earnest  about  it,  and  wanted  the 
subject  discussed  thoroughly  before  any  such  rash 
step  was  taken.  The  balance  of  the  discussion  con- 
sisted in  one  word  from  Mr.  Smythe,  echoed  by  all 
his  fellow-members. 

"Question!"  said  that  gentleman. 

"You  have  all  heard  the  question,"  said  Mr.  Trim- 
mer calmly.  "Those  in  favor  will  please  signify  by 
saying  'Aye.' " 

"Aye!"  voted  four  members  of  the  board  as  with 
one  scarcely  interested  voice. 

"No !"  cried  Bobby  angrily,  and  sprang  to  his  feet, 
his  anger  confused,  moreover,  by  the  shock  of  find- 
ing unsuspected  wolves  tearing  at  his  vitals.  "Gen- 
tlemen, I  protest  against  this  action !  I " 

Mr.  Trimmer  pounded  on  the  table  with  his  pencil 
in  lieu  of  a  gavel. 

"The  motion  is  carried.     !Any  other  business?" 

It  seemed  that  there  was.  Mr.  Harvey  proposed 
that  Mr.  Smythe  be  made  assistant  general  manager 
at  a  salary  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  per  year. 
Again  the  farce  of  a  ballot  and  the  farce  of  a  pro- 
test was  enacted.  Where  now  was  the  voting  power 
of  Bobby's  twenty-six  hundred  shares?  In  the  di- 


54      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

rectors'  meeting  they  voted  as  individuals,  and  they 
were  six  against  one.  Rather  indifferently,  as  if 
the  thing  did  not  amount  to  much,  Mr.  Smythe  pro- 
posed that  the  selection  of  a  firm  name  for  advertising 
and  publicity  purposes  be  left  to  the  manager,  and 
though  Bobby  voted  no  as  to  this  proposition  on  gen- 
eral principles,  it  seemed  of  minor  importance,  in 
his  then  bewildered  state  of  mind.  After  all,  the 
thing  which  grieved  him  most  just  then  was  to  find 
that  people  could  do  these  things! 


CHAPTER  VI 

CONSISTING  ENTIRELY  OF  A  RAPID  SUCCESSION  OF  MOST 
PAINFUL  SHOCKS 

HE  was  still  dazed  with  what  had  happened, 
when,  the  next  morning,  he  turned  into 
^^1^  the  office  and  found  Johnson  and  Apple- 
rod  packing  up  their  personal  effects.  Workmen 
were  removing  letter-files  and  taking  desks  out  of 
the  door. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  asked,  surveying  the  un- 
wonted confusion  in  perplexity. 

"The  entire  office  force  of  the  now  defunct  John 
Burnit  Store  has  been  dismissed,  that's  all!"  blurted 
Applerod,  now  the  aggrieved  one.  "You  sold  us  out, 
lock,  stock  and  barrel!" 

"Impossible  1"  gasped  Bobby. 

Mr.  Johnson  glumly  showed  him  curt  letters  of 
dismissal  from  Trimmer. 

"Where's  mine,  I  wonder?"  inquired  Bobby,  try- 
ing to  take  his  terrific  defeat  with  sportsmanlike 
nonchalance. 

55 


56      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  for  you,  sir,  inas- 
much as  you  never  had  a  recognized  position  to  lose," 
replied  Johnson,  not  unkindly.  "Did  the  board  of 
directors  elect  you  to  any  salaried  office?" 

"Why,  so  they  didn't!"  exclaimed  Bobby,  and  for 
the  first  time  realized  that  no  place  had  been  made  for 
him.  He  had  taken  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  he 
was  to  be  a  part  of  the  consolidation,  and  the  omis- 
sion of  any  definite  provision  for  him  had  passed 
unnoticed. 

The  door  leading  to  his  own  private  office  banged 
open,  and  two  men  appeared,  shoving  through  it 
the  big  mahogany  desk  turned  edgewise. 

"What  are  they  doing?"  Bobby  asked  sharply. 

"Moving  out  all  the  furniture,"  snapped  Apple- 
rod  with  bitter  relish.  "All  the  office  work,  I  under- 
stand, is  to  be  done  in  the  other  building,  and  this 
space  is  to  be  thrown  into  a  special  cut-glass  depart- 
ment. I  suppose  the  new  desk  is  for  Mr.  Trimmer." 

Furious,  choking,  Bobby  left  the  office  and  strode 
back  through  the  store.  The  first  floor  passageway 
was  already  completed  between  the  two  buildings, 
and  a  steady  stream  of  customers  was  going  over  the 
bridge  from  the  old  Burnit  store  into  the  old  Trim- 
mer store.  There  were  very  few  coming  in  the  other 
direction.  He  had  never  been  in  Mr.  Trimmer's 
offices,  but  he  found  his  way  there  with  no  difficulty, 


A    SUCCESSION    OF    SHOCKS  57 

and  Mr.  Trimmer  came  out  of  his  private  room  to 
receive  him  with  all  the  suavity  possible.  In  fact, 
he  had  been  saving  up  suavity  all  morning  for  this 
very  encounter. 

"Well,  what  can  we  do  for  you  this  morning,  Mr. 
Burnit?"  he  wanted  to  know,  and  Bobby,  though  ac- 
customed to  repression  as  he  was,  had  a  sudden  im- 
pulse to  drive  his  fist  straight  through  that  false 
circular  smile. 

"I  want  to  know  what  provision  has  been  made 
for  me  in  this  new  adjustment,"  he  demanded. 

"Why,  Mr.  Burnit,"  expostulated  Mr.  Trimmer  in 
much  apparent  surprise,  "you  have  two  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  stock  in  what  should 
be  the  best  paying  mercantile  venture  in  this  city; 
you  are  vice-president,  and  a  member  of  the  board  of 
directors !" 

"I  have  no  part,  then,  in  the  active  management?" 
Bobby  wanted  to  know. 

"It  would  be  superfluous,  Mr.  Burnit.  One  of  the 
chief  advantages  of  such  a  consolidation  is  the  econ- 
omy that  comes  from  condensing  the  office  and  man- 
aging forces.  I  regretted  very  much  indeed  to  dis- 
miss Mr.  Johnson  and  Mr.  Applerod,  but  they  are 
very  valuable  men  and  should  have  no  difficulty  in 
placing  themselves  advantageously.  In  fact,  I  shall 
be  glad  to  aid  them  in  securing  new  positions." 


58      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

"The  thing  is  an  outrage !"  exclaimed  Bobby  with 
passion. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Burnit,  it  is  business,"  said  Mr. 
Trimmer  coldly,  and,  turning,  went  deliberately  into 
his  own  room,  leaving  Bobby  standing  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor. 

Bobby  sprang  to  that  door  and  threw  it  open,  and 
Trimmer,  who  had  been  secretly  trembling  all  through 
the  interview,  turned  to  him  with  a  quick  pallor  over- 
spreading his  face,  a  pallor  which  Bobby  saw  and 
despised  and  ignored,  and  which  turned  his  first  mad 
impulse. 

"I'd  like  to  ask  one  favor  of  you,  Mr.  Trimmer," 
said  he.  "In  moving  the  furniture  out  of  the  John 
Burnit  offices  I  should  be  very  glad,  indeed,  if  you 
would  order  my  father's  desk  removed  to  my  house. 
It  is  an  old  desk  and  can  not  possibly  be  of  much  use. 
You  may  charge  its  value  to  my  account,  please." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Mr.  Trimmer.  "I'll  have  it  sent 
out  with  pleasure.  Is  there  anything  else?" 

"Nothing  whatever  at  present,"  said  Bobby, 
trembling  with  the  task  of  holding  himself  steady, 
and  walked  out,  unable  to  analyze  the  bitter  emotions 
that  surged  within  him. 

On  the  sidewalk,  standing  beside  his  automobile, 
he  found  Johnson  and  Applerod  waiting  for  him, 
and  the  moment  he  saw  Johnson,  cumbered  with  the 


A    SUCCESSION   OF    SHOCKS  59 

big  index-file  that  he  carried  beneath  his  arm,  he 
knew  why. 

"Give  me  the  letter,  Johnson,"  he  said  with  a  wry 
smile,  and  Johnson,  answering  it  with  another  equally 
as  grim,  handed  him  a  gray  envelope. 

Applerod,  who  had  been  the  first  to  upbraid  him, 
was  now  the  first  to  recover  his  spirits. 

"Never  mind,  Mr.  Burnit,"  said  he;  "businesses 
and  even  fortunes  have  been  lost  before  and  have 
been  regained.  There  are  still  ways  to  make  money." 

Bobby  did  not  answer  him.  He  was  opening  the 
letter,  preparing  to  stand  its  contents  in  much  the 
same  spirit  that  he  had  often  gone  to  his  father  to 
accept  a  reprimand  which  he  knew  he  could  not  in 
dignity  evade.  But  there  was  no  reprimand.  He 
read: 


"There's  no  use  in  telling  a  young  man  what  to  do 
when  he  has  been  gouged.  If  he's  made  of  the  right 
stuff  he'll  know,  and  if  he  isn't,  no  amount  of  telling 
will  put  the  right  stuff  in  him.  I  have  faith  in  you. 
Bobby,  or  I'd  never  have  let  you  in  for  this  goring. 

"In  the  meantime,  as  there  will  be  no  dividends  on 
your  stock  for  ten  years  to  come,  what  with  'improve- 
ments, expenses  and  salaries,'  and  as  you  will  need  to 
continue  your  education  by  embarking  in  some  other 
line  of  business  before  being  ripe  enough  to  accom- 
plish what  I  am  sure  you  will  want  to  do,  you  may 


60      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

now  see  your  trustee,  the  only  thoroughly  sensible 
person  I  know  who  is  sincerely  devoted  to  your  in- 
terests. Her  name  is  Agnes  EUiston." 


"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  Johnson  in  sudden 
concern,  and  Applerod  grabbed  him  by  the  arm. 

"Oh,  nothing  much,"  said  Bobby ;  "a  little  groggy, 
that's  all.  The  governor  just  handed  me  one  under 
the  belt.  By  the  way,  boys" — and  they  scarcely 
noted  that  he  no  longer  said  "gentlemen" — "if  you 
have  nothing  better  in  view  I  want  you  to  consider 
yourselves  still  in  my  employ.  I'm  going  into  busi- 
ness again  at  once.  If  you  will  call  at  my  house  to- 
morrow forenoon  I'll  talk  with  you  about  it,"  and 
anxious  to  be  rid  of  them  he  told  his  driver  "Idlers'," 
and  jumped  into  his  automobile. 

Agnes!  That  surely  was  giving  him  a  solar- 
plexus  blow!  Why,  what  did  the  governor  mean? 
It  was  putting  him  very  much  in  a  kindergarten 
position  with  the  girl  before  whom  he  wanted  to 
make  a  better  impression  than  before  anybody  else 
in  all  the  world. 

It  took  him  a  long  time  to  readjust  himself  to  this 
cataclysm. 

After  all,  though,  was  not  his  father  right  in  this, 
as  he  had  been  in  everything  else?  Humbly  Bobby 
was  ready  to  confess  that  Agnes  had  more  brains 


A    SUCCESSION   OF    SHOCKS  61 

and  good  common  sense  than  anybody,  and  was  alto- 
gether about  the  most  loyal  and  dependable  person  in 
all  the  world,  with  the  single  and  sole  exception  of 
allowing  that  splendid  looking  and  unknown  chap  to 
hang  around  her  so.  They  were  in  the  congested 
down-town  district  now,  and  as  they  came  to  a  dead 
stop  at  a  crossing,  Bobby,  though  immersed  in 
thought,  became  aware  of  a  short,  thick-set  man, 
who,  standing  at  the  very  edge  of  the  car,  was  ap- 
parently trying  to  stare  him  out  of  countenance. 

"Why,  hello,  Biff!"  exclaimed  Bobby.  "Which 
way?" 

"Just  waiting  for  a  South  Side  trolley,"  explained 
Biff.  "Going  over  to  see  Kid  Mills  about  that  light- 
weight go  we're  planning." 

"Jump  in,"  said  Bobby,  glad  of  any  change  in 
his  altogether  indefinite  program.  "I'll  take  you 
over." 

On  the  way  he  detailed  to  his  athletic  friend  what 
had  been  done  to  him  in  the  way  of  business. 

"I  know'd  it,"  said  BSff  excitedly.  "I  know'd  it 
'from  the  start.  That's  why  I  got  old  Trimmer  to 
join  my  class.  Made  him  a  special  price  of  next  to 
nothing,  and  got  Doc  Willets  to  go  around  and  tell 
him  he  was  in  Dutch  for  want  of  training.  Just 
wait." 

"For  what?"  asked  Bobby,  smiling. 


62      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Till  the  next  time  he  comes  up,"  declared  Biff 
vengefully.  "Say,  do  you  know  I  put  that  shrimp's 
hour  a-purpose  just  when  there  wouldn't  be  a  soul  up 
there;  and  the  next  time  I  get  him  in  front  of  me 
I'm  going  to  let  a  few  slip  that'll  jar  him  from  the 
cellar  to  the  attic;  and  the  next  time  anybody  sees 
him  he'll  be  nothing  but  splints  and  court-plaster." 

"Biff,"  said  Bobby  severely,  "you'll  do  nothing  of 
the  kind.  You'll  leave  one  Silas  Trimmer  to  me. 
Merely  bruising  his  body  won't  get  back  my  father's 
business.  Let  him  alone." 

"But  look  here,  Bobby " 

"No;  I  say  let  him  alone,"  insisted  Bobby. 

"All  right,"  said  Biff  sullenly ;  "but  if  you  think 
there's  a  trick  you  can  turn  to  double  cross  this 
Trimmer  you've  got  another  think  coming.  He's 
sunk  his  fangs  in  the  business  he's  been  after  all  his 
life,  and  now  you  couldn't  pry  it  away  from  him 
with  a  jimmy.  You  know  what  I  told  you  about 
him." 

"I  know,"  said  Bobby  wearily.  "But  honestly, 
Biff,  did  you  ever  see  me  go  into  a  game  where  I 
was  a  loser  in  the  end?" 

"Not  till  this  one,"  confessed  Biff. 

"And  this  isn't  the  end,"  retorted  Bobby. 

He  knew  that  when  he  made  such  a  confident  asser- 
tion that  he  had  nothing  upon  which  to  base  it ;  that 


A    SUCCESSION    OF    SHOCKS  63 

he  was  talking  vaguely  and  at  random;  but  he  also 
knew  the  intense  desire  that  had  arisen  in  him  to  re- 
verse conditions  upon  the  man  who  had  waited  until 
the  father  died  to  wrest  that  father's  pride  from  the 
son;  and  in  some  way  he  felt  coming  strength.  In 
Biff's  present  frame  of  conviction  Bobby  was  pleased 
enough  to  drop  him  in  front  of  Kid  Mills'  obscure 
abode,  and  turn  with  a  sudden  hungry  impulse  in 
the  direction  of  Agnes.  At  the  Ellistons',  when  the 
chauffeur  was  about  to  slow  up,  Bobby  in  a  panic 
told  him  to  drive  straight  on.  In  the  course  of  half 
an  hour  he  came  back  again,  and  this  time  pride 
alone — fear  of  what  his  chauffeur  might  think — de- 
termined him  to  stop.  With  much  trepidation  he 
went  up  to  the  door.  Agnes  was  just  preparing  to 
go  out,  and  she  came  down  to  him  in  the  front 
parlor. 

"This  is  only  a  business  call,"  he  confessed  with 
as  much  appearance  of  gaiety  as  he  could  summon 
under  the  circumstance.  "I've  come  around  to  see  my 
trustee." 

"So  soon?"  she  said,  with  quick  sympathy  in  her 
voice.  "I'm  so  sorry,  Bobby!  But  I  suppose,  after 
all,  the  sooner  it  happened  the  better.  Tell  me  all 
about  it.  What  was  the  cause  of  it?" 

"You  wouldn't  marry  me,"  charged  Bobby.  "If 
you  had  this  never  would  have  happened." 


64      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

She  shook  her  head  and  smiled,  but  she  laid  her 
hand  upon  his  arm  and  drew  closer  to  him. 

"I'm  afraid  it  would,  Bobby.  You  might  have 
asked  my  advice,  but  I  expect  you  wouldn't  have  taken 
it." 

"I  guess  you're  right  about  that,"  admitted 

Bobby ;  "but  if  you'd  only  married  me Honest, 

Agnes,  when  are  you  going  to?" 

"I  shall  not  commit  myself,"  she  replied,  smiling 
up  at  him  rather  wistfully. 

"There's  somebody  else,"  declared  Bobby,  in- 
stantly assured  by  this  evasiveness  that  the  unknown 
had  something  to  do  with  the  matter. 

"If  there  were,  it  would  be  my  affair  entirely, 
wouldn't  it?"  she  wanted  to  know,  still  smiling. 

"No!"  he  declared  emphatically.  "It  would  be 
my  affair.  But  really  I  want  to  know.  Will  you,  if 
I  get  my  father's  business  back?" 

"I'll  not  promise,"  she  said.  "Why,  Bobby,  the 
way  you  put  it,  you  would  be  binding  me  not  to 
marry  you  in  case  you  didn't  get  it  back!"  and  she 
laughed  at  him.  "But  let's  talk  business  now.  I 
was  just  starting  out  upon  your  affairs,  the  secur- 
ing of  some  bonds  for  which  the  lawyer  I  have  em- 
ployed has  been  negotiating,  so  you  may  take  me 
up  there  and  he  will  arrange  to  get  you  the  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  you  are  to  have. 


They'll  double-cross  you,   though,   to   a  fare-ye-well 


A   SUCCESSION   OF   SHOCKS  65 

It's  for  a  new  start,  without  restrictions  except  that 
you  are  to  engage  in  business  with  it.  That's  all 
the  instructions  I  have." 

"Thanks,"  said  Bobby,  with  a  gulp.  "Honestly, 
Agnes,  it's  a  shame.  It's  a  low-down  trick  the  gov- 
ernor played  to  put  me  in  this  helplessly  belittled 
position  with  you." 

"Why,  how  strange,"  she  replied  quietly.  "I  look 
upon  it  as  a  most  graceful  and  agreeable  position 
for  myself." 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed  blankly,  as  it  occurred  to  him 
just  how  uncomfortable  the  situation  must  be  to  her, 
and  he  reproached  himself  with  selfishness  in  not 
having  thought  of  this  phase  of  the  matter  before. 
"That's  a  fact,"  he  admitted.  "I  say,  Agnes,  I'll 
say  no  more  about  that  end  of  it  if  you  don't;  and, 
after  all,  I'm  glad,  too.  It  gives  me  a  legitimate 
excuse  to  see  you  much  oftener." 

"Gracious,  no !"  she  protested.  "You  fill  up  every 
spare  moment  that  I  have  now;  but  so  long  as  you 
are  here  on  business  this  time,  let's  attend  to  business. 
You  may  take  me  up  to  see  Mr.  Chalmers.  By  the 
way,  I  want  you  to  meet  him,  anyhow.  You  have 
seen  him,  I  believe,  once  or  twice.  He  was  here  one 
day  when  you  called,  and  he  was  walking  with  me  in 
the  lobby  of  the  theater  when  you  came  in  to  join  us 
one  evening." 


66      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Y-e-s,"  drawled  Bobby,  as  if  he  were  placing  the 
man  with  difficulty. 

"The  Chalmers'  are  charming  people,"  she  went  on. 
"His  wife  is  perfectly  fascinating.  We  used  to  go  to 
school  together.  They  have  only  been  married  three 
months,  and  when  they  came  here  to  go  into  business 
I  was  very  glad  to  throw  such  of  your  father's  estate 
as  I  am  to  handle  into  his  hands.  Whenever  they 
are  ready  I  want  to  engineer  them  into  our  set,  but 
they  live  very  quietly  now.  I  know  you'll  like  them." 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  I  will,"  agreed  Bobby  heartily,  and 
his  face  was  positively  radiant,  as,  for  some  unac- 
countable reason,  he  clutched  her  hand.  She  lifted 
it  up  beneath  his  arm,  around  which,  for  one  ecstatic 
moment,  she  clasped  her  other  hand,  and  together 
they  went  out  into  the  hall,  Bobby,  simply  driveling 
in  his  supreme  happiness,  allowing  her  to  lead  him 
wheresoever  she  listed.  Still  in  the  joy  of  knowing 
that  his  one  dreaded  rival  was  removed  in  so  pleas- 
ant a  fashion,  he  handed  her  into  the  automobile  and 
they  started  out  to  see  Mr.  Chalmers.  Their  way  led 
down  Grand  Street,  past  the  John  Burnit  Store, 
and  with  all  that  had  happened  still  rankling  sorely 
in  his  mind,  Bobby  looked  up  and  gave  a  gasp. 
Workmen  were  taking  down  the  plain,  dignified  old 
sign  of  the  John  Burnit  Store  from  the  top  of  the 
building,  and  in  its  place  they  were  raising  up  a 


A    SUCCESSION    OF    SHOCKS  67 

glittering  new  one,  ordered  by  Silas  Trimmer  on  the 
very  day  Bobby  had  agreed  to  go  into  the  consolida- 
tion ;  and  it  read : 

"TRIMMER  AND  COMPANY" 


CHAPTER  VII 

PINK-CHEEKED     APPLEROD     RUSHES     TO"     THE     EESCUE 
WITH  A   GOLDEN   SCHEME 

AGNES  had  been  surprised  into  an  exclam- 
ation of  dismay  by  that  new  sign,  but  she 
checked  it  abruptly  as  she  saw  Bobby's 
face.  She  could  divine,  but  she  could  not  fully  know, 
how  that  had  hurt  him ;  how  the  pain  of  it  had  sunk 
into  his  soul;  how  the  humiliation  of  it  had  tingled 
in  every  fiber  of  him.  For  an  instant  his  breath 
had!  stopped,  his  heart  had  swelled  as  if  it  would  burst, 
a  great  lump  had  come  in  his  throat,  a  sob  almost  tore 
its  way  through  his  clenched  teeth.  He  caught  his 
breath  sharply,  his  jaws  set  and  his  nostrils  dilated, 
then  the  color  came  slowly  back  to  his  cheeks.  Agnes, 
though  longing  to  do  so,  had  feared  to  lay  her  hand 
even  upon  his  sleeve  in  sympathy  lest  she  might  un- 
man him,  but  now  she  saw  that  she  need  not  have 
feared.  It  had  not  weakened  him,  this  blow;  it  had 
strengthened  him. 

"That's    brutal,"    he    said    steadily,    though   the 
steadiness  was  purely  a  matter  of  will.     "We  must 
change  that  sign  before  we  do  anything  else." 
68 


APPLEROD   TO   THE   RESCUE         69 

"Of  course,"  she  answered  simply. 

Involuntarily  she  stretched  out  her  small  gloved 
Hand,  and  with  it  touched  his  own.  Looking  back  once 
more  for  a  fleeting  glimpse  at  the  ascending  symbol 
of  his  defeat,  he  gripped  her  hand  so  hard  that  she 
almost  cried  out  with  the  pain  of  it;  but  she  did  not 
wince.  When  he  suddenly  remembered,  with  a  fright- 
ened apology,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  her  lap  and 
patted  it,  her  fingers  seemed  as  if  they  had  been  com- 
pressed into  a  numb  mass,  and  she  separated  them 
slowly  and  with  difficulty.  Afterward  she  remem- 
bered that  as  a  dear  hurt,  after  all,  for  in  it  she 
shared  his  pain. 

While  they  were  still  stunned  and  silent  under  Silas 
Trimmer's  parting  blow,  the  machine  drew  up  at  the 
curb  in  front  of  the  building  in  which  Chalmers  had 
his  office.  Chalmers,  Bobby  found,  was  a  most  agree- 
able fellow,  to  whom  he  took  an  instant  liking.  It 
was  strange  what  different  qualities  the  man  seemed 
to  possess  than  when  Bobby  had  first  seen  him  in  the 
company  of  Agnes.  Their  business  there  was  very 
brief.  Chalmers  held  for  Bobby,  subject  to  Agnes' 
order  as  trustee,  the  sum  of  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  instantly  convertible  securities, 
and  when  they  left,  Bobby  had  a  check  for  that 
amount  comfortably  tucked  in  his  pocket. 

There  was  another  brief  visit  to  the  office  of  old 


70      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Mr.  Barrister,  where  Agnes,  again  as  Bobby's  trustee, 
exhibited  the  papers  Chalmers  had  made  out  for  her, 
showing  that  the  funds  previously  left  in  her  charge 
had  been  duly  paid  over  to  Bobby  as  per  the  pro- 
visions of  the  will,  and  thereupon  filed  her  order  for 
a  similar  amount.  Bjarrister  received  them  with  an 
"I  told  you  so"  air  which  amounted  almost  to  satis- 
faction. He  was  quite  used  to  seeing  the  sons  of  rich 
men  hastening  to  become  poor  men,  and  he  had  so 
evidently  classed  Bobby  as  one  of  the  regular  sort, 
that  Bobby  took  quite  justifiable  umbrage  and  de- 
cided that  if  he  had  any  legal  business  whatever  he 
would  put  it  into  the  hands  of  Chalmers. 

He  spent  the  rest  of  the  day  with  Agnes  and  took 
dinner  at  the  Ellistons',  where  jolly  Aunt  Constance 
and  shrewd  Uncle  Dan,  in  genuine  sympathy,  de- 
sisted so  palpably  from  their  usual  joking  about  his 
"business  career,"  that  Bobby  was  more  ill  at  ease 
than  if  they  had  said  all  the  grimly  humorous  things 
which  popped  into  their  minds.  For  that  reason  he 
went  home  rather  early,  and  tumbled  into  bed  resolv- 
ing upon  the  new  future  he  was  to  face  to-morrow. 
*  At  least,  he  consoled  himself  with  a  sigh,  he  was 
now  a  man  of  experience.  He  had  learned  something 
of  the  world.  He  was  not  further  to  be  hoodwinked. 
His  last  confused  vision  was  of  Silas  Trimmer  on  his 
knees  begging  for  mercy,  and  the  next  thing  he  knew 


APPLEROD   TO   THE   RESCUE         71 

was  th'at  some  one  was  reminding  him,  with'  annoying 
insistency,  of  the  early  call  he  had  left. 

The  world  looked  brighter  that  morning,  and  he 
was  quite  hopeful  when,  in  the  dim  old  study,  seated 
at  his  father's  desk  and  with  the  portrait  of  stern 
old  John  Burnit  frowning  and  yet  shrewdly  twin- 
kling down  upon  him,  he  received  Johnson,  dry  and 
sour  looking  as  if  he  expected  ill  news,  and  Applerod, 
bright  and  radiant  as  if  Fortune's  purse  were  just 
about  to  open  to  him. 

"Well,  boys,"  said  Bobby  cheerily,  "we're  going  to 
stick  right  together.  We're  going  to  start  into  a  new 
business  as  soon  as  we  can  find  one  that  suits  us,  and 
your  employment  begins  from  this  minute.  We're  be- 
ginning with  a  capital  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars,"  and  rather  pompously  he  spread  the 
check  upon  the  desk.  His  pompousness  faded  in  some- 
thing under  fifteen  seconds,  for  it  was  in  about  that 
length  of  time  that  he  caught  sight  of  a  plain  gray 
envelope  then  in  the  process  of  emerging  from  John- 
son's pocket.  He  accepted  it  with  something  of  re- 
luctance, but  opened  it  nevertheless ;  and  this  was  the 
message  of  the  late  John  Burnit : 

To  my  Son  Upon  the  Occasion  of  his  Being  Intrusted 
With  Real  Money 

"In   most   cases   the   difference  between    spending 


72      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

money  and  investing  it  is  wholly  a  matter  of  speed. 
Not  one  man  in  ten  knows  when  and  where  and  how 
to  put  a  dollar  properly  to  work ;  so  the  only  financial 
education  I  expect  you  to  get  out  of  an  attempt  to  go 
into  business  is  a  painful  lesson  in  subtraction." 

"This  letter,  Johnson,  is  only  a  delicate  intimation 
from  the  governor  that  I'll  make  another  blooming 
ass  of  myself  with  this,"  commented  Bobby,  tapping 
his  finger  on  the  check,  and  placing  the  letter  face 
downward  beside  it,  where  he  eyed  it  askance. 

"A  quarter  of  a  million !"  observed  Applerod,  roll- 
ing out  the  amount  with  relish.  "A  great  deal  can  be 
done  with  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  you 
know." 

"That's  just  the  point,"  observed  Bobby  with  a 
frown  of  perplexity,  directed  alternately  to  the  faith- 
ful gentlemen  who  for  upward  of  thirty  years  had 
been  his  father's  right  and  left  bowers.  "What  am  I 
to  do  with  it?  Johnson,  what  would  you  do  with  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  ?" 

"Lose  it,"  confessed  stooped  and  bloodless  John- 
son. "I  never  made  a  dollar  out  of  a  dollar  in  my 
life." 

"What  would  you  do  with  it,  rApplerod?" 

Mr.  Applerod,  scarcely  able  to  contain  himself, 
had  been  eagerly  awaiting  that  question. 

"Purchase,  improve  and  market  the  Westmarsh  Ad- 


APPLEROD    TO    THE    RESCUE         73 

dition,"  he  said  promptly,  expanding  fully  two  inches 
across  his  already  rotund  chest. 

"What?"  snorted  Johnson,  and  cast  upon  his  work- 
mate a  look  of  withering  scorn.  "Are  you  still  dream- 
ing about  the  possibilities  of  that  old  swamp  ?" 

"To  be  sure  it  is  a  swamp,"  admitted  Mr.  Apple- 
rod  with  some  heat.  "Do  you  suppose  you  could  buy 
one  hundred  and  twenty  acres  of  directly  accessible 
land,  almost  at  the  very  edge  of  the  crowded  city 
limits,  at  two  hundred  dollars  an  acre  if  it  wasn't 
swamp  land?"  he  demanded.  "Why,  Mr.  Burnit,  it 
is  the  opportunity  of  a  lifetime !" 

"How  much  capital  would  be  needed?"  asked 
Bobby,  gravely  assuming  the  callous,  inquisitorial 
manner  of  the  ideal  business  man. 

"Well,  I've  managed  to  buy  up  twenty  acres  out  of 
my  savings,  and  there  are  still  one  hundred  acres  to 
be  purchased,  which  will  take  twenty  thousand  dol- 
lars. But  this  is  the  small  part  of  it.  Drainage,  fill- 
ing and  grading  is  to  be  done,  streets  and  sidewalks 
ought  to  be  put  down,  a  gift  club-house,  which  would 
serve  at  first  as  an  office,  would  be  a  good  thing  to 
build,  and  the  thing  would  have  to  be  most  thoroughly 
advertised.  I've  figured  on  it  for  years,  and  it  would 
require,  all  told,  about  a  two-hundred-thousand  invest- 
ment." 

"And  what  would  be  the  return?"  asked  Bobby 


74      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

without  blinking  at  these  big  figures,  and  proud  of 
his  attitude,  which,  while  conservative,  was  still  one 
of  openness  to  conviction. 

"Figure  it  out  for  yourself,"  Mr.  Applerod  in- 
vited him  with  much  enthusiasm.  "We  get  ten  build- 
ing lots  to  the  acre,  turning  one  hundred  and  twenty 
acres  into  one  thousand  two  hundred  lots.  Improved 
sites  at  any  point  surrounding  this  tract  can  not  be 
bought  for  less  than  twenty-five  dollars  per  front  foot. 
Corner  lots  and  those  in  the  best  locations  would  bring 
much  more,  but  taking  the  average  price  at  only  six 
hundred  dollars  per  lot,  we  would  have,  as  a  total 
return  for  the  investment,  seven  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  dollars !" 

"In  how  long?"  Bobby  inquired,  not  allowing  him- 
self to  become  in  the  slightest  degree  excited. 

"One  year,"  announced  the  optimistic  Mr.  Apple- 
rod  with  conviction. 

Mr.  Johnson,  his  lips  glued  tightly  together  in  one 
firm,  thin,  straight  line  across  his  face,  was  glaring 
steadfastly  at  the  corner  of  the  ceiling,  permitting  no 
expression  whatever  to  flicker  in  his  eyes ;  noting 
which,  Bobby  turned  to  him  with  a  point-blank  ques- 
tion: 

"What  do  you  think  of  this  opportunity,  Mr.  John- 
son?" he  asked. 

Mr.  Johnson  glared  quickly  at  Mr.  Applerod. 


APPLEROD    TO    THE    RESCUE         75 

"Tell  him,"  defied  that  gentleman. 

"I  think  nothing  whatever  of  it!"  snapped  Mr. 
Johnson. 

"What  is  your  chief  ground  of  objection?"  Bobby 
wanted  to  know. 

Again  Mr.  Johnson  glared  quickly  at  Mr.  Apple- 
rod. 

"Tell  him,"  insisted  that  gentleman  with  an  out- 
ward wave  of  both  hands,  expressive  of  his  intense 
desire  to  have  every  secret  of  his  own  soul  and  of 
everybody's  else  laid  bare. 

"I  will,"  said  Johnson.  "Your  father,  a  dozen 
times  in  my  own  hearing,  refused  to  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  scheme." 

Bobby  turned  accusing  eyes  upon  Applerod,  who, 
though  red  of  face,  was  still  strong  of  assertion. 

"Mr.  Burnit  never  declined  on  any  other  grounds 
than  that  he  already  had  too  many  irons  in  the  fire," 
he  declared.  "Tell  him  that,  too,  Johnson !" 

"It  was  only  his  polite  way  of  putting  it,"  retorted 
Mr.  Johnson. 

"John  Burnit  was  noted  for  his  polite  way  of  put- 
ting his  business  conclusions,"  snapped  Applerod  in 
return,  whereat  Bobby  smiled  with  gleeful  reminis- 
cence, and  Mr.  Johnson  smiled  grimly,  albeit  reluc- 
tantly, and  Mr.  Applerod  smiled  triumphantly. 

"I  can  see  the  governor  doing  it,"  laughed  Bobby, 


76      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

and  dismissed  the  matter.  "Mr.  Johnson,  as  a  start 
in  business  we  may  as  well  turn  this  study  into  a  tem- 
porary office.  Take  this  check  down  to  the  Commer- 
cial Bank,  please,  and  open  an  account.  You  already 
have  power  of  attorney  for  my  signature.  Procure 
a  small  set  of  books  and  open  them.  Make  out  for  me 
against  this  account  at  the  Commercial  a  check  for 
ten  thousand,  Mr.  Applerod,  kindly  reduce  your 
swamp  proposition  to  paper  and  let  me  have  it  by  to- 
morrow. I'll  not  promise  that  I  will  do  anything  with 
it,  but  it  would  be  only  fair  to  examine  it." 

With  these  crisp  remarks,  upon  the  decisiveness  of 
which  Bobby  prided  himself  very  much,  he  left  the  two 
to  open  business  for  him  under  the  supervision  of  the 
portrait  of  stern  but  humor-given  old  John  Burnit. 

"Applerod,"  said  Johnson  indignantly,  his  lean 
frame  almost  quivering,  "it  is  a  wonder  to  me  that 
you  can  look  up  at  that  picture  and  reflect  that  you 
are  trying  to  drag  John  Burnit's  son  into  this  fool 
scheme." 

"Johnson,"  said  Mr.  Applerod,  puffing  out  his 
cheeks  indignantly,  "you  were  given  the  first  chance 
to  advise  Mr.  Robert  what  he  should  do  with  his 
money,  and  you  failed  to  do  so.  This  is  a  magnificent 
business  opportunity,  and  I  should  consider  myself 
very  remiss  in  my  duty  to  John  Burnit's  son  if  I 
failed  to  urge  it  upon  him." 


APPLEROD    TO    THE    RESCUE         77 

Mr.  Johnson  picked  up  the  letter  that  Bobby,  evi- 
dently not  caring  whether  they  read  it  or  not,  had 
left  behind  him.  He  ran  through  it  with  a  grim  smile 
and  handed  it  over  to  Applerod  as  his  best  retort. 

At  the  home  of  Agnes  Elliston  Bobby's  car  stopped 
almost  as  a  matter  of  habit,  and  though  the  hour  was 
a  most  informal  one  he  walked  up  the  steps  as  con- 
fidently as  if  he  intended  opening  the  door  with  a 
latch-key;  for  since  Agnes  was  become  his  trustee, 
Bobby  had  awakened,  overnight,  to  the  fact  that  he 
had  a  proprietary  interest  in  her  which  could  not  be 
denied. 

Agnes  came  down  to  meet  him  in  a  most  ravishing 
morning  robe  of  pale  green,  a  confection  so  stunning 
in  conjunction  with  her  gold-brown  eyes  and  waving 
brown  hair  and  round  white  throat  that  Bobby  was 
forced  to  audible  comment  upon  it. 

"Cracking!"  said  he.  "I  suppose  that  if  I  hadn't 
had  nerve  enough  to  pop  in  here  unexpectedly  before 
noon  I  wouldn't  have  seen  that  gown  for  ages." 

It  was  Aunt  Constance,  the  irrepressible,  who,  lean- 
ing over  the  stair  railing,  sank  the  iron  deep  into  his 
soul. 

"It  was  bought  at  Trimmer  and  Company's,  Grand 
Street  side,  Bobby,"  she  informed  him,  and  with  this 
Parthian  shot  she  went  back  through  the  up-stairs 
hall,  laughing. 


78      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Ouch!"  said  Bobby.  "That  was  snowballing  a 
cripple,"  and  he  was  really  most  woebegone  about  it. 

"Never  mind,  Bobby,  you  have  still  plenty  of 
chance  to  win,"  comforted  Agnes,  who,  though  laugh- 
ing, had  sympathetic  inkling  of  that  sore  spot  which 
had  been  touched.  He  seemed  so  forlorn,  in  spite  of 
his  big,  good-natured  self,  that  she  moved  closer  to 
him  and  unconsciously  put  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 
It  was  too  much  for  him  in  view  of  the  way  she  looked, 
and,  suddenly  emboldened,  he  did  a  thing  the  mere 
thought  of  which,  under  premeditation,  would  have 
scared  him  into  a  frapped  perspiration.  He  placed 
his  hands  upon  her  shoulders,  and,  drawing  her 
toward  him,  bent  swiftly  down  to  kiss  her.  For  a  fleet- 
ing instant  she  drew  back,  and  then  Bobby  had  the 
surprise  of  his  life,  for  her  warm  lips  met  his  quite 
willingly,  and  with  a  frank  pressure  almost  equal  to 
his  own.  She  sprang  back  from  him  at  once  with 
sparkling  eyes,  but  he  had  no  mind  to  follow  up  his 
advantage,  for  he  was  dazed.  It  had  left  him  breath- 
less, amazed,  incredulous.  He  stood  for  a  full  minute, 
his  face  gone  white  with  the  overwhelming  wonder  of 
this  thing  that  had  happened  to  him,  and  then  the 
blunt  directness  which  was  part  of  his  inheritance 
from  his  father  returned  to  him. 

"Well,  anyhow,  we're  to  be  engaged  at  last,"  he 
said. 


APPLEROD    TO    THE    RESCUE         79 

"No,"  she  rebuked  him,  with  a  sudden  flash  of  mis- 
chief;  "that  was  perfectly  wicked,  and  you  mustn't 
do  it  again." 

"But  I  will,"  he  said,  advancing  with  heightened 
color. 

"You  mustn't,"  she  said  firmly,  and  although  she 
did  not  recede  farther  from  him  he  stopped.  "You 
mustn't  make  it  hard  for  us,  Bobby,"  she  warned  him. 
"I'm  under  promise,  too ;  and  that's  all  I  can  tell  you 
now." 

"The  governor  again,"  groaned  Bobby.  "I  sup- 
pose that  I'm  not  to  talk  to  you  about  marrying, 
nor  you  to  listen,  until  I  have  proved  my  right  and 
ability  to  take  care  of  you  and  your  fortune  and 
mine.  Is  that  it?" 

She  smiled  inscrutably. 

"What  brings  you  at  this  unearthly  hour?"  she 
asked  by  way  of  evasion.  "Some  business  pretext,  I'll 
be  bound." 

"Of  course  it  is,"  he  assured  her.  "This  morning 
you  are  strictly  in  the  role  of  my  trustee.  I  want  you 
to  look  at  some  property." 

"But  I  have  an  appointment  with  my  dressmaker." 

"The  dressmaker  must  wait." 

"What  a  warning!"  she  laughed.  "If  you  would 
order  a  mere — a  mere  acquaintance  around  so  per- 
emptorily, what  would  you  do  if  you  were  married?" 


80      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"I'd  be  the  boss,"  announced  Bjobby  with  calm  con- 
fidence. 

"Indeed?"  she  mocked,  and  started  into  the  library. 
"You'd  ask  permission  first,  wouldn't  you  ?" 

"Where  are  you  going?"  he  queried  in  return,  and 
grinned. 

"To  telephone  my  dressmaker,"  she  admitted,  smil- 
ing, and  realizing,  too,  that  it  was  not  all  banter. 

"I  told  you  to,  remember,"  asserted  Bobby,  with  a 
strange  new  sense  of  masterfulness  which  would  not 
down. 

When  she  came  down  again,  dressed  for  the  trip, 
he  was  still  in  that  dazed  elation,  and  it  lasted  through 
their  brisk  ride  to  the  far  outskirts  of  the  city,  where, 
at  the  side  of  a  watery  marsh  that  extended  for  nearly 
a  mile  along  the  roadway,  he  halted. 

"This  is  it,"  waving  his  hand  across  the  dismal 
waste. 

"It!"  she  repeated.   "What?" 

"The  property  that  it  was  suggested  I  buy." 

"No  wonder  your  father  thought  it  necessary  to 
appoint  a  trustee,"  was  her  first  comment.  "Why, 
Bobby,  what  on  earth  could  you  do  with  it?  It's  too 
large  for  a  frog  farm  and  too  small  for  a  summer  re- 
sort," and  once  more  she  turned  incredulous  eyes  upon 
the  "property." 

Dark,  oily  water  covered  the  entire  expanse,  and 


APPLEROD    TO    THE    RESCUE         81 

through  it  emerged,  here  and  there,  clumps  of  dank 
vegetation,  from  the  nature  and  dispersement  of 
which  one  could  judge  that  the  water  varied  from  one 
to  three  feet  in  depth.  Higher  ground  surrounded  it 
on  all  sides,  and  the  urgent  needs  of  suburban  growth 
had  scattered  a  few  small,  cheap  cottages,  here  and 
there,  upon  the  hills. 

"It  doesn't  seem  very  attractive  until  you  consider 
those  houses,"  Bobby  confessed.  "You  must  remem- 
ber that  the  city  hasn't  room  to  grow,  and  must  take 
note  that  it  is  trying  to  spread  in  this  direction. 
Wouldn't  a  fellow  be  doing  a  rather  public-spirited 
thing,  and  one  in  which  he  might  take  quite  a  bit  of 
satisfaction,  if  he  drained  that  swamp,  filled  it,  laid 
out  streets  and  turned  the  whole  stretch  into  a  cluster 
of  homes  in  place  of  a  breeding-place  for  fevers?" 

"You  talk  just  like  a  civic  improvement  society," 
she  said,  laughing. 

"We  did  have  a  chap  lecturing  on  that  down  at  the 
club  a  few  nights  ago,"  he  admitted,  "and  maybe  I 
have  picked  up  a  bit  of  the  talk.  But  wouldn't  it  be  a 
good  thing,  anyhow?" 

"Oh,  I  quite  approve  of  it,  now  that  I  see  your 
plan,"  she  agreed;  "but  could  it  be  made  to  pay?" 

"Well,"  he  returned  with  a  grave  assumption  of 
that  businesslike  air  he  had  recently  been  trying  to 
copy  down  at  the  Traders'  Club,  "there  are  one  hun- 


82      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

dred  and  twenty  acres  in  the  tract.  I  can  buy  it  for 
two  hundred  dollars  an  acre,  and  sell  each  acre,  in 
building  lots,  for  full  six  thousand.  It  seems  to  me 
that  this  is  enough  margin  to  carry  out  the  needed 
improvements  and  make  the  marketing  of  it  worth 
while.  What  do  you  think  of  it?" 

They  both  gazed  out  over  that  desolate  expanse  and 
tried  to  picture  it  dotted  with  comfortable  cottages, 
set  down  in  grassy  lawns  that  bordered  on  white,  clean 
streets,  and  the  idea  of  the  transformation  was  an  at- 
tractive one. 

"It  looks  to  me  like  a  perfectly  splendid  idea," 
Agnes  admitted.  "I  wonder  what  your  father  would 
have  thought  of  it." 

"Well,"  confessed  Bobby  a  trifle  reluctantly,  "this 
very  proposition  was  presented  to  him  several  times,  I 
believe,  but  he  always  declined  to  go  into  it." 

"Then,"  decided  Agnes,  so  quickly  and  emphatic- 
ally that  it  startled  him,  "don't  touch  it!" 

"Oh,  but  you  see,"  he  reminded  her,  "the  governor 
couldn't  go  Into  everything  that  was  offered  him,  and 
to  this  plan  he  never  urged  any  objection  but  that  he 
had  too  many  irons  in  the  fire." 

"I  wouldn't  touch  it,"  declared  Agnes,  and  that  was 
her  final  word  in  the  matter,  despite  all  his  arguments. 
If  John  Burnit  had  declined  to  go  into  it,  no  matter 
for  what  reason,  the  plan  was  not  worth  considering. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

BOBBY  SUCCEEDS  IN  SNAPPING  A  BARGAIN  FROM  UNDER 

SILAS  TRIMMER'S  NOSE 

STILL  undecided,  but  carrying  seriously  the 
thought  that  he  must  overlook  no  opportunity 
if  he  was  to  prove  himself  the  successful  man 
that  his  father  had  so  ardently  wished  him  to  become, 
Bobby  dropped  into  the  Idlers'  Club  for  lunch,  where 
Nick  Allstyne  and  Payne  Winthrop  hailed  him  as  one 
returned  from  the  dead. 

"Just  the  chap,"  declared  Nick.  "Stan  Rogers  has 
written  me  that  I'm  to  scrape  the  regular  crowd  to- 
gether and  come  up  to  his  new  Canadian  lodge  for  a 
hunt.  Stag  affair,  you  know.  Real  sport  and  no 
pink-coat  pretense." 

"Sorry,  Nick,"  said  Bobby,  pluming  himself  a  trifle 
upon  his  steadfastness  to  duty,  "but  I  know  what 
Stan's  stag  affairs  are  like.  It  would  mean  two  weeks 
at  least,  and  I  could  not  spare  that  much  time  from 
the  city." 

"Business  again !"  groaned  Payne  in  mock  dismay. 
83 


84      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"T!his  grasping  greed  for  gain  is  blighting  the  most 
promising  young  men  of  our  avaricious  country. 
Why,  it's  positively  shameful,  Bobby,  when  your  fa- 
ther must  have  left  you  over  three  million." 

"Two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  so  far  as  I'm  al- 
lowed to  inquire  just  now,"  corrected  Bobby;  "and 
I'm  ordered  to  go  into  business  with  that  and  prove 
that  I'm  not  such  a  blithering  idiot  that  I  can't  be 
trusted  with  the  rest  of  it,  whatever  there  is." 

"But  I  thought  you'd  had  your  trial  by  fire  and 
pulled  out  of  it,"  interposed  Nick.  "I  heard  that  you 
had  sold  your  interests  or  something,  and  when  I  saw 
a  new  sign  over  the  store  I  knew  that  it  was  true. 
Sensible  thing,  I  call  it." 

"Sensible !"  winced  Bobby.  "You're  allowing  me  a 
mighty  pleasant  way  out  of  it,  but  the  fact  of  the 
matter  is  that  I  lost  in  such  a  stinging  way  I'm  bound 
to  get  back  into  the  game  and  do  nothing  else  until  I 
win,"  and  he  explained  how  Silas  Trimmer  had  per- 
formed upon  him  a  neat  and  delicate  operation  in  com- 
mercial surgery. 

They  were  properly  sympathetic;  not  that  they 
cared  much  about  business,  but  if  Bobby  had  entered 
any  game  whatsoever  in  which  he  had  been  soundly 
beaten,  they  could  quite  understand  his  desire  to  stay 
in  that  game  until  he  could  show  points  on  the  right 
side. 


BOBBY    SNAPS    A    BARGAIN  85 

"Nevertheless,"  Nick  urged,  "you  ought  to  take  a 
little  breathing  spell  in  between." 

All  through  lunch,  and  through  the  game  of  bil- 
liards which  followed,  they  strove  to  make  him  see  the 
error  of  his  ways,  but  Bobby  was  obdurate,  and  at 
last  they  gave  him  up  as  a  bad  job,  with  the  grave 
prediction  that  later  he  would  find  himself  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  beast  of  burden.  When  he  left 
them  Bobby  was  surprised  at  himself.  For  a  time  he 
had  feared  that  in  his  declaration  of  such  close  atten- 
tion to  business  he  might  be  posing;  but  he  found 
that  to  miss  a  stag  hunting  party,  which  heretofore 
had  been  one  of  his  keenest  delights,  weighed  upon 
him  not  at  all;  found  actually  that  he  would  far 
rather  stay  in  the  city  to  engage  in  the  game  of 
finance  which  was  unfolding  before  him!  He  came 
upon  this  surprising  discovery  while  he  was  on  his 
way  across  to  a  side  street,  where,  on  the  fourth  floor 
of  a  store  and  warehouse  building,  he  let  himself  in  at 
a  wide  door  with  a  latch-key  and  entered  the  gymna- 
sium of  Biff  Bates.  That  gentleman,  in  trunks, 
sweater  and  sandals,  was  padding  all  alone  around  and 
around  the  edge  of  the  hall  at  a  steady  jog,  which, 
after  twenty  solid  minutes,  had  left  no  effect  whatever 
upon  his  respiration. 

"Getting  fat  as  a  butcher  again,"  he  announced  as 
he  trotted  steadily  around  to  Bobby,  suddenly  stop- 


86      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

ping  short  with  an  expansive  grin  across  his  wide  face 
and  a  handshake  that  it  took  an  athlete  to  withstand. 
"Got  to  cut  it  down  or  it'll  put  me  on  the  blink. 
What's  the  best  thing  you  know,  chum?" 

"How  does  this  hit  you?"  asked  Bobby,  taking 
from  his  pocket  the  check  Johnson  had  given  him  that 
morning. 

Mr.  Bates  looked  at  it  with  his  hands  behind  him. 

"Pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance,"  he  said  to 
the  slip  of  paper,  nodding  profoundly. 

"Oh,  everybody's  friendly  to  these,"  said  Bobby, 
indorsing  the  check.  "It  is  for  the  new  gymnasium," 
he  explained.  "Now,  partner,  turn  loose  and  monopo- 
lize the  physical  training  business  of  this  city." 

"Partner!"  scorned  Mr.  Bates.  "Look  here,  old 
pal,  there's  only  one  way  I'll  take  this  big  ticket,  and 
that  is  that  you'll  drag  down  your  split  of  the 
profits." 

"But  don't  I  on  this  place?"  protested  Bobby. 

"Nit!"  retorted  Mr.  Bates  with  infinite  scorn.  "You 
put  them  right  back  into  the  business,  but  that  don't 
go  any  more.  If  we  start  this  big  joint  it's  got  to  be 
partners  right,  see?  Or  else  take  back  this  wealthy 
handwriting.  I  don't  guess  I  want  it,  anyhow.  From 
past  performances  you  need  all  the  money  in  the 
world,  and  ten  thousand  simoleons  will  put  a  crimp  in 
any  wad." 


BOBBY    SNAPS    A   BARGAIN  87 

"No,"  laughed  Bobby;  "you're  saving  it  for  me 
"when  you  take  it.  I've  just  read  a  very  nice  note,  left 
for  me  by  the  governor,  that  I'll  be  a  fool  and  lose 
anyhow." 

Mr.  Bates  grinned. 

"You  will,  all  right,  all  right,  if  you're  going  into 
business,"  he  admitted,  and  stuffed  the  check  in  the 
upturned  cuff  of  his  sweater.  "After  these  profit- 
and-loss  artists  get  your  goat  on  all  the  starts  your 
old  man  left  you,  maybe  I'll  have  to  put  up  the  eats 
and  sleeps  for  you  anyhow;  huh?"  and  Mr.  Bates 
laughed  with  keen  enjoyment  of  this  delicately  ex- 
pressed idea.  "How  are  you  going  to  divorce  your- 
self from  the  rest  of  it,  Bobby?" 

"I'm  not  quite  sure,"  said  Bobby.  "You  know  that 
big  stretch  of  swamp  land,  out  on  the  Millberg 
Road?" 

"Where  Paddy  Dolan  fell  in  and  died  from  drinkin' 
too  much  water?  Sure  I  do." 

"Well,  it  has  been  suggested  to  me  that  I  buy  it, 
drain  it,  fill  it,  put  in  paved  streets,  cut  it  up  into 
building  lots  and  sell  it." 

"And  build  it  full  of  these  pale  yellow  shacks  that 
the  honest  working  slob  buys  with  seventeen  years  of 
his  wages,  and  then  loses  the  shack?"  Biff  incredu- 
lously wanted  to  know. 

"You  guessed  wrong,  Biff,"  laughed  Bobby.  "Just 


88      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

selling  the  lots  will  be  enough  for  me.  What  do  you 
think  of  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Bates  thoughtfully.  "I 
know  they  frame  up  such  stunts  and  boost  'em  strong 
in  the  papers,  and  if  any  of  these  real-estate  sharps 
is  working  just  for  their  healths  they've  been  stung 
from  all  I've  seen  of  'em.  But  the  main  point  is,  who's 
the  guy  that's  tryin'  to  lead  you  to  it?" 

"Oh,  that  part's  all  right,"  replied  Bobby  with  per- 
fect assurance.  "The  man  who  wants  me  to  finance 
this,  and  who  has  already  bought  some  of  the  land, 
was  one  of  my  father's  right-hand  men  for  nearly 
thirty  years." 

"Then  that's  all  right,"  agreed  Mr.  Bates.  "But 
say !"  he  suddenly  exclaimed  as  a  new  thought  struck 
him ;  "it's  a  wonder  this  right-mitt  mut  of  your  fa- 
ther's didn't  make  the  old  man  fall  for  it  long  ago,  if 
it's  such  a  hot  muffin." 

"He  did  try  it,"  confessed  Bobby  with  hesitation 
for  the  second  time  that  day;  "but  the  governor  al- 
ways complained  that  he  had  too  many  other  irons  in 
the  fire." 

"He  did,  did  he?"  Mr.  Bates  wanted  to  know,  fix- 
ing accusing  eyes  on  Bobby.  "Then  don't  be  the  fall 
guy  for  any  other  touting.  Your  old  man  knew  this 
business  dope  from  Sheepshead  Bay  to  Oakland.  You 
take  it  from  me  that  this  tip  ain't  the  one  best  bet." 


BOBBY    SNAPS    A    BARGAIN  89 

Bobby  left  the  gymnasium  with  a  certain  degree  of 
dissatisfaction,  not  only  with  Mr.  Applerod's  scheme 
but  with  the  fact  that  wherever  he  went  his  father's 
business  wisdom  was  thrown  into  his  teeth.  That  even- 
ing, drawn  to  the  atmosphere  into  which  events  had 
plunged  him,  he  dined  at  the  Traders'  Club.  As  he 
passed  one  of  the  tables  Silas  Trimmer  leered  up  at 
him  with  the  circular  smile,  which,  bisected  by  a  row 
of  yellow  teeth  and  hooded  with  a  bristle  of  stubby 
mustache,  had  now  come  to  aggravate  him  almost  past 
endurance.  To-night  it  made  him  approach  his  din- 
ner with  vexation,  and,  failing  to  find  the  man  he  had 
sought,  he  finished  hastily.  As  he  went  out,  Silas 
Trimmer,  though  looking  straight  in  his  direction, 
did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  aware  of  Bobby's  approach. 
He  was  deep  in  a  business  discussion  with  his  prig- 
gish son-in-law. 

"It's  a  great  opportunity,"  he  was  loudly  insisting. 
"If  I  can  secure  that  land  I'll  drain  and  improve  it 
and  cut  it  up  into  building  lots.  This  city  is  ripe  for 
a  suburban  boom." 

That  settled  it  with  Bobby.  No  matter  what  argu- 
ments there  might  be  to  the  contrary,  if  Silas  Trim- 
mer had  his  eye  on  that  piece  of  property,  Bobby 
wanted  it. 

Applerod,  though  eagerness  brought  him  early, 
had  no  sooner  entered  the  study  next  morning  than 


90      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

j 

Bobby,  who  was  already  dressed  for  business  and  who 
had  his  machine  standing  outside  the  door,  met  him 
briskly. 

"Keep  your  hat  on,  Applerod,"  he  ordered.  "We'll 
go  right  around  and  buy  the  rest  of  that  property  at 
once." 

"I  thought  those  figures  I  left  last  night  would 
convince  you,"  beamed  Mr.  Applerod. 

There  is  no  describing  the  delight  and  pride  with 
which  that  highly-gratified  gentleman  followed  the 
energetic  young  Mr.  Burnit  to  the  curb,  nor  the  dig- 
nity with  which,  a  few  minutes  later,  he  led  the  way 
into  the  office  of  one  Thorne,  real-estate  dealer. 

"Mr.  Thorne,  Mr.  Robert  Burnit,"  said  Mr.  Ap- 
plerod, hastening  straight  to  business.  "Mr.  Burnit 
has  come  around  to  close  the  deal  for  that  Westmarsh 
property." 

Mr.  Thorne  was  suavity  itself  as  he  shook  hands 
with  Mr.  Burnit,  but  the  most  aching  regret  was  in 
his  tone  as  he  spoke. 

"I'm  very  sorry  indeed,  Mr.  Burnit,"  he  stated; 
"but  that  property,  which,  by  the  way,  seems  very 
much  in  demand,  passed  out  of  my  hands  yesterday 
afternoon." 

"To  whom?"  Mr.  Applerod  excitedly  wanted  to 
know.  "I  think  you  might  have  let  us  have  time  to 
turn  around,  Thorne.  I  spoke  about  it  to  you  yester- 


BOBBY    SNAPS    A    BARGAIN  91 

day  morning,  you  know,  and  said  that  I  felt  quite 
hopeful  Mr.  Burnit  would  buy  it." 

"I  know,"  said  Mr.  Thome,  politely  but  coldly; 
"and  I  told  you  at  the  time  we  talked  about  it  that 
I  never  hold  anything  in  the  face  of  a  bona  fide 
offer." 

"But  who  has  it?"  Bobby  insisted,  more  eager  now 
to  get  it,  since  it  had  slipped  away  from  him,  than 
ever  before. 

"The  larger  portion  of  it,  the  ninety-two  acres  ad- 
joining Mr.  Applerod's  twenty,"  Mr.  Thorne  advised 
him,  "was  taken  up  by  Miles,  Eddy  and  Company. 
The  north  eight  acres  are  owned  by  Mr.  Silas  Trim- 
mer, and  I  am  quite  positive,  from  what  Mr.  Trim- 
mer told  me,  not  two  hours  later,  that  this  parcel  is 
not  for  sale." 

Bobby's  heart  sank.  Eight  acres  of  that  land  had 
already  been  gobbled  up  by  Silas  Trimmer,  and,  no 
doubt,  that  astute  and  energetic  business  gentleman 
was  now  after  the  balance. 

"Where  is  the  office  of  Miles,  Eddy  and  Company?" 
Bobby  asked,  with  a  crispness  that  pleased  him  tre- 
mendously as  he  used  it. 

"Twenty-six  Plum  Street,"  Mr.  Thorne  advised 
him. 

"Thanks,"  said  Bobby,  and  whirled  out  of  the  door, 
followed  by  the  disconsolate  Applerod. 


92      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

'At  the  office  of  Miles,  Eddy  and  Company  better 
luck  awaited  them. 

Yes,  that  firm  had  secured  possession  of  the  West- 
marsh  ninety-two  acres.  Yes,  the  property  was  listed 
for  sale,  having  been  bought  strictly  for  speculative 
purposes.  And  its  figure?  The  price  was  now  three 
hundred  dollars  per  acre. 

'Til  take  it,"  said  Bobby. 

There  was  positive  triumph  in  his  voice  as  he  an- 
nounced this  decision.  He  would  show  Silas  Trimmer 
that  he  was  awake  at  last,  that  he  was  not  to  be  beaten 
in  every  deal. 

"Twenty-seven  thousand  six  hundred  dollars,"  said 
Bobby,  figuring  the  amount  on  a  pad  he  picked  up 
from  Mr.  Eddy's  desk.  "Very  well.  Allow  me  to  use 
your  telephone  a  moment.  Mr.  Chalmers,"  directed 
Bobby  when  he  had  his  new  lawyer  on  the  wire, 
"kindly  get  into  communication  with  Miles,  Eddy 
and  Company  and  look  up  the  title  on  ninety-two 
acres  of  Westmarsh  property  which  they  have  for 
sale.  If  the  title  is  clear  the  price  is  to  be  three  hun- 
dred dollars  per  acre,  for  which  amount  you  will  have 
a  check,  payable  to  your  order,  within  half  an  hour." 

Then  to  Johnson — biting  his  pen-handle  in  Bobby's 
study  and  wondering  where  his  principal  and  Apple- 
rod  could  be  at  this  hour — he  telephoned  to  deliver  a 
check  in  the  amount  of  twenty-seven  thousand  six 


BOBBY    SNAPS    A   BARGAIN  93 

hundred  dollars  to  Mr.  Chalmers.  Never,  since  he  had 
been  plunged  into  "business,"  had  Bobby  been  so 
elated  with  himself  as  when  he  walked  from  the  office 
of  Miles,  Eddy  and  Company;  and,  to  keep  up  the 
good  work,  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  hall  he  turned 
to  Applerod  with  a  crisp,  ringing  voice,  which  was 
the  product  of  that  elation. 

"Now  for  an  engineer,"  he  said. 

"Already  as  good  as  secured,"  Mr.  Applerod  an- 
nounced, triumphant  that  every  necessity  had  been 
anticipated.  "Jimmy  Platt,  son  of  an  old  neighbor  of 
mine.  Fine,  smart  boy,  and  knows  all  about  the  West- 
marsh  proposition.  Bless  you,  I  figured  on  this  with 
him  every  vacation  during  his  schooling !" 

An  hour  later,  Bobby,  Mr.  Applerod  and  the  se- 
cretly jubilant  Jimmy  Platt  had  sped  out  Westmarsh 
way,  and  were  inspecting  the  hundred  and  twelve  acres 
of  swamp  which  the  new  firm  of  Burnit  and  Applerod 
held  between  them. 

"It's  a  fine  job,"  said  the  young  engineer,  coveting 
anew  the  tremendous  task  as  he  bent  upon  it  an  ad- 
miring professional  eye.  "This  time  next  year  you 
won't  recognize  the  place.  It's  a  noble  thing,  Mr. 
Burnit,  to  turn  an  utterly  useless  stretch  of  swamp 
like  this  into  habitable  land.  Have  you  secured  the 
entire  tract?" 

"Unfortunately,    no,"    Bobby    confessed    with    a 


94      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

frown.  "The  extreme  north  eight  acres  are  owned 
by  another  party." 

"And  when  you  drain  your  property,"  mused 
Jimmy,  smiling,  "you  will  drain  his." 

"Not  if  I  can  help  it,"  declared  Bobby  emphati- 
cally. 

"You  must  come  to  some  arrangement  before  you 
begin,"  warned  the  engineer  with  the  severe  profes- 
sional authority  common  to  the  quite  young.  Already, 
however,  he  was  trying  to  grow  regulation  engineer's 
whiskers ;  also  he  immediately  planned  to  get  mar- 
ried upon  the  proceeds  of  this  big  job,  which,  after 
years  of  chimerical  dreaming,  had  become  too  real, 
almost,  to  be  believed.  "Perhaps  you  could  get  the 
owner  to  stand  his  proportionate  share  of  the  expense 
of  drainage." 

Bobby  smiled  at  the  suggestion  but  made  no  other 
answer.  He  knew  Silas  Trimmer,  or  thought  that  he 
did,  and  the  idea  of  Silas  bearing  a  portion  of  a  huge 
expense  like  this,  when  he  could  not  be  forced  to 
shoulder  it,  struck  him  as  distinctly  humorous. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AGNES  DELIVERS  BOBBY  A  NOTE  FROM  OLD  JOHN 
BURNIT IN  A  GRAY  ENVELOPE 

THAT  night,  at  the  Traders'  Club,  Bobby  was 
surprised  when  Mr.  Trimmer  walked  over  to 
his  table  and  dropped  his  pudgy  trunk  and 
his  lean  limbs  into  a  chair  beside  him.  His  yellow 
countenance  was  creased  with  ingratiating  wrinkles, 
and  the  smile  behind  his  immovable  mustache  became 
of  perfectly  flawless  circumference  as  his  muddy  black 
eyes  peered  at  Bobby  through  thick  spectacles.  It 
seemed  to  Bobby  that  there  was  malice  in  the  wrinkles 
about  those  eyes,  but  the  address  of  Mr.  Trimmer  was 
most  conciliatory. 

"I  have  a  fuss  to  pick  with  you,  young  man,"  he 
said  with  clumsy  joviality.  "You  beat  me  upon  the 
purchase  of  that  Westmarsh  property.  Very  shrewd, 
indeed,  Mr.  Burnit ;  very  like  your  father.  I  suppose 
that  now,  if  I  wanted  to  buy  it  from  you,  I'd  have  to 
pay  you  a  pretty  advance."  And  he  rubbed  his  hands 
as  if  to  invite  the  opening  of  negotiations. 

"It  is  not  for  sale,"  said  Bobby,  stiffening ;  "but  I 
95 


96      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

might  consider  a  proposition  to  buy  your  eight  acres." 
He  offered  this  suggestion  with  reluctance,  for  he  had 
no  mind  to  enter  transactions  of  any  sort  with  Silas 
Trimmer.  Still,  he  recalled  to  himself  with  a  sudden 
yielding  to  duty,  business  is  business,  and  his  father 
would  probably  have  waved  all  personal  considerations 
aside  at  such  a  point. 

"Mine  is  for  sale,"  offered  Silas,  a  trifle  too  eagerly, 
Bobby  thought. 

"How  much?"  he  asked. 

"A  thousand  dollars  an  acre." 

"I  won't  pay  it,"  declared  Bobby. 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  Trimmer  with  a  deepening  of 
that  circular  smile  which  Bobby  now  felt  sure  was 
maliciously  sarcastic,  "by  the  time  it  is  drained  it 
will  be  worth  that  to  any  purchaser." 

"Suppose  we  drain  it,"  suggested  Bobby,  holding 
both  his  temper  and  his  business  object  remarkably 
well  in  hand.  "Will  you  stand  your  share  of  the 
cost?" 

"It  strikes  me  as  an  entirely  unnecessary  expense 
at  present,"  said  Silas  and  smiled  again. 

"Then  it  won't  be  drained,"  snapped  Bobby. 

Later  in  the  evening  he  caught  Silas  laughing  at 
him,  his  shoulders  heaving  and  every  yellow  fang 
protruding.  The  next  morning,  keeping  earlier  hours 
than  ever  before  in  his  life,  Bobby  was  waiting  out- 


rAGNES    DELIVERS   A   NOTE  97 

side  Jimmy  Platt's  door  when  that  gentleman  started 
to  work. 

"The  first  thing  you  do,"  he  directed,  still  with  a 
memory  of  that  aggravating  laugh,  "I  want  you  to 
build  a  cement  wall  straight  across  the  north  end  of 
my  Westmarsh  property." 

Mr.  Platt  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"Evidently  you  can  not  buy  that  north  eight  acres, 
and  don't  intend  to  drain  it,"  he  commented,  stroking 
sagely  the  sparse  beginning  of  those  slow  professional 
whiskers.  "It's  your  affair,  of  course,  Mr.  Burnit, 
but  I  am  quite  sure  that  spite  work  in  engineering  can 
not  be  made  to  pay." 

"Nevertheless,"  insisted  Bobby,  "we'll  build  that 
wall." 

The  previous  afternoon  Jimmy  Platt  had  made  a 
scale  drawing  of  the  property  from  city  surveys,  and 
now  the  two  went  over  it  carefully,  discussing  it  in 
various  phases  for  fully  an  hour,  proving  estimates 
of  cost  and  general  feasibility.  At  the  conclusion  of 
that  time  Bobby,  well  pleased  with  his  own  practical 
manner  of  looking  into  things,  telephoned  to  Johnson 
and  asked  for  Applerod.  Mr.  Applerod  had  not  yet 
arrived. 

"Very  well,"  said  Bobby,  "when  he  comes  have  him 
step  out  and  secure  suitable  offices  for  us,"  and  this 
detail  despatched  he  went  out  with  his  engineer  to 


98      THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

make  a  circuit  of  the  property  and  study  its  drainage 
possibilities. 

From  profiles  that  Platt  had  made  they  found  the 
swamp  at  its  upper  point  to  be  much  lower  than  the 
level  of  the  river,  which  ran  beyond  low  hills  nearly 
a  mile  away ;  but  the  river  made  a  detour,  including  a 
considerable  fall,  coming  back  again  to  within  a  scant 
half-mile  of  the  southern  end  of  the  tract,  where  it 
was  much  lower  than  the  marsh.  Between  marsh  and 
river  at  the  south  was  an  immense  hill,  too  steep  and 
rugged  for  any  practical  purpose,  and  this  they 
scaled. 

The  west  end  of  the  city  lay  before  them  crowd- 
ing close  to  the  river  bank,  and  already  its  ten- 
tacles had  crept  around  and  over  the  hills  and  on  past 
Westmarsh  tract.  Young  Platt  looked  from  river  to 
swamp,  his  eyes  glowing  over  the  possibilities  that  lay 
before  them. 

"Mr.  Burnit,"  he  announced,  after  a  gravity  of 
thought  which  he  strove  his  best  to  make  take  the 
place  of  experience,  "you  ought  to  be  able  to  buy  this 
hill  very  cheaply.  Just  through  here  we'll  construct 
our  drainage  channel,  and  with  the  excavation  fill  your 
marsh.  It  is  one  of  the  neatest  opportunities  I  have 
ever  seen,  and  I  want  to  congratulate  you  upon  your 
shrewdness  in  having  picked  out  such  a  splendid  in- 
vestment." 


AGNES    DELIVERS   A   NOTE  99 

This,  Bobby  felt,  was  praise  from  Caesar,  and  he 
was  correspondingly  elated. 

He  did  not  return  to  the  study  until  in  the  after- 
noon. He  found  Johnson  livid  with  abhorrence  of 
Applerod's  gaudy  metamorphosis.  That  gentleman 
wore  a  black  frock-coat,  a  flowered  gray  waistcoat, 
pin-striped  light  trousers,  shining  new  shoes,  sported 
a  gold-headed  cane,  and  on  the  table  was  the  glisten- 
ing new  silk  hat  which  had  reposed  upon  his  snow- 
white  curls.  His  pink  face  was  beaming  as  he  rose 
to  greet  his  partner. 

"Mr.  Burnit,"  said  he,  shaking  hands  with  al- 
most trembling  gravity  and  importance,  "this  day 
is  the  apex  of  my  life,  and  I'm  happy  to  have  the 
son  of  my  old  and  revered  employer  as  my  part- 
ner." 

"I  hope  that  it  may  prove  fortunate  for  both  of 
us,"  replied  Bobby,  repressing  his  smile  at  the  acqui- 
sition of  the  "make-up"  which  Applerod  had  for  years 
aspired  to  wear  legitimately. 

Johnson,  humped  over  the  desk  that  had  once  been 
Bobby's  father's,  snorted  and  looked  up  at  the  stern 
portrait  of  old  John  Burnit;  then  he  drew  from  the 
index-file  which  he  had  already  plaeed  upon  the  back 
of  that  desk  a  gray-tinted  envelope  which  he  handed 
to  Bobby  with  a  silence  that  was  more  eloquent  than 
words.  It  was  inscribed: 


100    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

To  my  Son  if  he  is  Fool  EnougJi  to  Take  up  With 
'Applerod's  Swamp  Scheme 

Rather  impatiently  Bobby  tore  it  open,  and  on  the 
inside  he  found: 


"When  shrewd  men  persist  in  passing  up  an  ap- 
parently cinch  proposition,  don't  even  try  to  find  out 
what's  the  matter  with  it.  In  this  six-cylinder  age  no 
really  good  opportunity  runs  loose  for  twenty-four 
hours." 

"If  the  governor  had  only  arranged  to  leave  me 
his  advice  beforehand  instead  of  afterward,"  Bobby 
complained  to  Agnes  Elliston  that  evening,  "it  might 
have  a  chance  at  me." 

"The  blow  has  fallen,"  said  Agnes  with  mock  seri- 
ousness ;  "but  you  must  remember  that  you  brought 
it  on  yourself.  You  have  complained  to  me  of  your 
father's  carefully-laid  plans  for  your  course  in  pro- 
gressive bankruptcy,  and  he  left  in  my  keeping  a  let- 
ter for  you  covering  that  very  point." 

"Not  in  a  gray  envelope,  I  hope,"  groaned  Bobby. 

"In  a  gray  envelope,"  she  replied  firmly,  going 
across  to  her  own  desk  in  the  library. 

"I  had  feared,"  said  Bobby  dismally,  "that  sooner 
or  later  I  should  find  he  had  left  letters  for  me  in 
your  charge  as  well  as  in  Johnson's,  but  I  had  hoped, 


AGNES    DELIVERS    A    NOTE          101 

if  that  were  the  case,  that  at  least  they  would  be  in 
pink  envelopes." 

She  brought  to  him  one  of  the  familiar-looking  mis- 
sives, and  Bobby,  as  he  took  it,  looked  speculatively 
at  the  big  fireplace,  in  which,  as  it  was  early  fall,  com- 
fortable-looking real  logs  were  crackling. 

"Don't  do  it,  Bobby,"  she  warned  him  smiling. 
"Let's  have  the  fun  together,"  and  she  sat  beside  him 
on  the  couch,  snuggling  close. 

The  envelope  was  addressed: 

To  My  Son  Upon  his  Complaining1  that  His  Father's 
Advice  Comes  too  Late! 

He  opened  it,  and  together  they  read : 

"No  boy  will  believe  green  apples  hurt  him  until  he 
gets  the  stomach-ache.  Knowing  you  to  be  truly  my 
son,  I  am  sure  that  if  I  gave  you  advice  beforehand 
you  would  not  believe  it.  This  way  you  will." 

Bobby  smiled  grimly. 

"I  remember  one  painful  incident  of  about  the  time 
I  put  on  knickerbockers,"  he  mused.  "Father  told  me 
to  keep  away  from  a  rat-trap  that  he  had  bought.  Of 
course  I  caught  my  hand  in  it  three  minutes  after- 
ward. It  hurt  and  I  howled,  but  he  only  looked  at  me 
coldly  until  at  last  I  asked  him  to  help.  He  let  the 


102    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

thing  squeeze  while  he  asked  if  a  rat-trap  hurt.  I 
admitted  that  it  did.  Would  I  believe  him  next  time? 
I  acknowledged  that  I  would,  and  he  opened  the  trap. 
That  was  all  there  was  to  it  except  the  raw  place  on 
my  hand;  but  that  night  he  came  to  my  room  after 
I  had  gone  to  bed,  and  lay  beside  me  and  cuddled  me 
in  his  arms  until  I  went  to  sleep." 

"Bobby,"  said  Agnes  seriously,  "not  one  of  these 
letters  but  proves  his  aching  love  for  you." 

"I  know  it,"  admitted  Bobby  with  again  that  grim 
smile.  "Which  only  goes  to  prove  another  thing,  that 
I'm  in  for  some  of  the  severest  drubbings  of  my  life. 
I  wonder  where  the  clubs  are  hidden." 

He  found  one  of  them  late  that  same  night  at 
the  Idlers'.  Clarence  Smythe,  Silas  Trimmer's  son-in- 
law,  drifted  in  toward  the  wee  small  hours  in  an  un- 
usual condition  of  hilarity.  He  had  a  Vandyke,  had 
Mr.  Smythe,  and  was  one  who  cherished  a  mad  pas- 
sion for  clothes;  also,  as  an  utterly  impossible 
"climber,"  he  was  as  cordially  hated  as  Bobby  was 
liked  at  the  Idlers',  where  he  had  crept  in  "while  the 
window  was  open,"  as  Nick  Allstyne  expressed  it. 
Ordinarily  he  was  most  prim  and  pretty  of  manner, 
but  to-night  he  was  on  vinously  familiar  terms  with  all 
the  world,  and,  crowding  himself  upon  Bobby's  quiet 
whist  crowd,  slapped  Bobby  joyously  on  the  shoulder. 

"Generous  lad,  Bobby!"  he  thickly  informed  All- 


I'm  in  for  some  of  the  severest  drubbings  of  my  life 


AGNES    DELIVERS    A    NOTE          103 

styne  and  Winthrop  and  Starlett.  "If  you  chaps  have 
any  property  you've  wanted  to  unload  for  half  a  life- 
time, here's  the  free-handed  plunger  to  buy  it." 

"How's  that?"  Bobby  wanted  to  know,  guessing  in- 
stantly at  the  humiliating  truth. 

"That  Westmarsh  swamp  belonged  to  Trimmer," 
laughed  Mr.  Smythe,  so  bubbling  with  the  hugeness 
of  the  joke  that  he  could  not  keep  his  secret;  "and 
when  Thorne,  after  pumping  your  puffy  man,  told 
my  clever  father-in-law  you  wanted  it,  he  promptly 
bought  it  from  himself  in  the  name  of  Miles,  Eddy 
and  Company  and  put  up  the  price  to  three  hundred 
an  acre.  Besides  taking  the  property  off  his  shoulders 
you've  given  him  nearly  a  ten-thousand-dollar  ad- 
vance for  it.  Fine  business!" 

"Great!"  agreed  blunt  Jack  Starlett.  "Almost  as 
good  a  joke  as  refusing  to  pay  a  poker  debt  because 
it  isn't  legal." 

Bobby  smiled  his  thanks  for  the  shot,  but  inside  he 
was  sick.  The  game  they  were  playing  was  a  parting 
set-to,  for  the  three  others  were  leaving  in  the  morn- 
ing for  Stanley's  hunt,  but  Bobby  was  glad  when  it 
was  over.  In  the  big,  lonely  house  he  sat  in  the  study 
for  an  hour  before  he  went  to  bed,  looking  abstract- 
edly up  at  the  picture  of  old  John  Burnit  and  worry- 
ing over  this  new  development.  It  cut  him  to  the  quick, 
not  so  much  that  he  had  been  made  a  fool  of  by 


104    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT. 

"clever"  real-estate  men,  had  been  led,  imbecile-like, 
to  pay  an  extra  hundred  dollars  per  acre  for  that 
swamp  land,  but  that  the  advantage  had  gone  to  Silas 
Trimmer. 

Moreover,  why  had  Silas  put  a  prohibitive  valua- 
tion upon  that  north  eight  acres?  Why  did  he  want 
to  keep  it?  It  must  be  because  Silas  really  expected 
that  his  tract  would  be  drained  free  of  charge,  and 
that  he  would  thus  have  the  triumph  of  selling  it  for 
an  approximate  six  thousand  dollars  an  acre  in  the 
form  of  building  lots.  In  the  face  of  such  a  conclu- 
sion, the  thought  of  the  cement  wall  that  he  had  or- 
dered built  was  a  great  satisfaction. 

It  was  a  remarkably  open  winter  that  followed,  and 
outdoor  operations  could  thereby  go  on  uninter- 
rupted. In  the  office,  the  pompous  Applerod,  in 
his  frock-coat  and  silk  hat,  ground  Johnson's  soul  to 
gall  dust ;  for  he  had  taken  to  saying  "Mr.  Johnson" 
most  formally,  and  issuing  directions  with  maddening 
politeness  and  consideration.  rAn  arrangement  had 
been  effected  with  Applerod,  whereby  that  gentleman, 
for  having  suggested  the  golden  opportunity,  was  to 
reap  the  entire  benefit  of  the  improvement  on  his  own 
twenty  acres,  Bobby  financing  the  whole  deal  and 
charging  Applerod's  share  of  it  against  his  account. 
Applerod  stood  thereby  to  gain  about  seventy-six 
thousand  dollars  over  and  above  the  price  he  had  paid 


AGNES    DELIVERS    A    NOTE          105 

for  his  twenty  acres;  and,  moreover,  Bobby  had  de- 
cided to  call  the  improved  tract  the  Appier od  Addi- 
tion! When  that  name  began  to  appear  in  print, 
coupled  with  flaming  advertisements  of  Applerod's 
devising,  there  was  grave  danger  of  the  rosy-cheeked 
old  gentleman's  losing  every  button  from  every  fancy 
vest  in  his  possession. 

In  the  meantime,  thoroughly  in  love  with  the  vast 
enterprise  which  he  had  projected,  Bobby  spent  his 
time  outdoors,  fascinated,  unable  to  find  any  peace 
elsewhere  than  upon  his  Titanic  labor.  His  evenings 
he  spent  in  such  social  affairs  as  he  could  not  avoid; 
with  Agnes  Elliston ;  with  Biff  Bates ;  in  an  occa- 
sional game  of  billiards  at  the  Idlers' ;  but  his  days, 
from  early  morning  until  the  evening  whistle,  he  spent 
amid  the  clang  of  pick  and  shovel,  the  rattling  of  the 
trams,  the  creaking  of  the  crane.  It  was  an  absorbing 
thing  to  see  that  enormous  groove  cut  down  through 
the  big  hill,  and  to  watch  the  growth  of  the  great 
mounds  which  grew  up  out  of  the  marsh.  The  ditch 
that  should  drain  off  all  this  murky  water  was,  of 
course,  the  first  thing  to  be  achieved,  and,  from  the 
base  of  the  hill  through  which  it  was  to  be  cut,  the 
engineer  ran  a  tram  bridge  straight  across  the  swamp 
to  the  new  retaining  wall ;  and  from  this,  with  the  aid 
of  a  huge,  long-armed  crane  which  lifted  cars  bodily 
from  the  track,  the  soil  was  dumped  on  either  side  as 


106    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

it  was  removed  from  the  cut.  By  the  latter  part  of 
December  the  ditch  had  been  completed  and  connected 
with  the  special  sewer  which,  by  permission  of  the 
city,  had  been  built  to  carry  the  overflow  to  the  river, 
and,  the  open  weather  still  holding,  the  stagnant  pool 
which  had  been  a  blot  upon  the  landscape  for  untold 
ages  began  to  flow  sluggishly  away,  displaced  by  the 
earth  from  the  disappearing  hill. 

The  city  papers  were  teeming  now  with  the  vast 
energy  and  public-spirited  enterprise  of  young  Rob- 
ert Burnit  and  Oliver  P.  Applerod,  and  there  were 
many  indications  that  the  enterprise  was  to  be  a  most 
successful  one.  Even  before  they  were  ready  to  re- 
ceive them,  applications  were  daily  made  for  reserva- 
tions in  the  new  district,  and  individual  home-seekers 
began  to  take  Sunday  trips  out  to  where  the  big  un- 
dertaking was  in  progress. 

"You  sure  have  got  'em  going,  Bobby,"  confessed 
the  finally-convinced  Biff  Bates  after  a  visit  of  in- 
spection. "Here's  where  you  put  the  hornet  on  one 
Silas  Tight-Wad  Trimmer  all  right,  all  right.  But 
the  bones  don't  roll  right  that  the  side  bet  don't  go 
for  Johnson  instead  of  Applegoat.  He's  a  shine,  for 
me.  I  think  he's  all  to  the  canary  color  inside,  but 
this  man  Johnson's  some  man  if  he  only  had  a  shell 
to  put  it  in.  Me  for  him !" 

The  unexpressed  friendship  that  had  sprung  up 


AGNES    DELIVERS   A   NOTE         107 

between  the  taciturn  bookkeeper  and  the  loquacious 
ex-pugilist  was  both  a  puzzle  and  a  delight  to  Bobby, 
and  it  was  one  of  his  great  joys  to  see  them  together, 
they  not  knowing  why  they  liked  such  companionship, 
not  having  a  single  topic  of  conversation  in  common, 
but  unconsciously  enjoying  that  vague,  sympathetic 
man-soul  they  found  in  each  other. 


CHAPTER  X 

AGNES   AND    BOBBY    DISCERN    DIAMOND-STUDDED    SPURS 
FOR    THE    LATTER 

ABOUT  the  first  of  February  the  filling  and 
grading  were  finished  and  the  construction 
of  the  streets  began,  and  the  middle  of 
March  saw  the  final  disappearance  of  everything,  ex- 
cept that  dark,  eight-acre  spot  of  Silas  Trimmer's, 
which  might  remind  one  of  the  tract  once  known  as 
the  Westmarsh.  In  its  place  lay  a  broad,  yellow 
checker-board,  formed  by  intersecting  streets  of  as- 
phalt edged  with  cement  pavements,  and  in  the  center, 
at  the  crossing  of  broad  Burnit  and  Applerod 
Avenues,  there  arose,  over  a  spot  where  once  frogs 
had  croaked  and  mosquitoes  clustered  in  crowds,  a 
pretty  club-house,  which  was  later  to  be  donated  to 
the  suburb;  and  a  great  satisfaction  fell  upon  the 
soul  of  Bobby  Burnit  like  a  benediction. 

Also  one  Oliver  P.  Applerod  added  two  full  inches 
to  his  strut.  He  seldom  came  out  to  the  scene  of  actual 
operations,  for  there  was  none  there  except  workmen 
108 


DIAMOND-STUDDED    SPURS         109 

to  see  his  frock-coat  and  silk  hat;  but  occasionally, 
from  a  sense  of  duty  inextricably  mingled  with  self- 
assertiveness,  he  paid  a  visit  of  inspection,  and  upon 
one  of  these  his  eyes  were  confronted  by  a  huge  new 
board  sign,  visible  for  half  a  mile,  that  overlooked 
the  'Applerod  [Addition  from  the  hills  to  the  north. 
It  bore  but  two  words :  "Trimmer's  Addition."  'Ap- 
plerod, holding  his  broadcloth  tight  about  him  to  keep 
it  from  yellow  contamination  as  a  car  rumbled  by, 
looked  and  wiped  his  glasses  and  looked  again,  then, 
highly  excited,  he  called  Bobby  to  him. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  of  this?"  He  demanded, 
pointing  to  the  sign. 

Bobby,  happy  in  sweater  and  high  boots  and  liH- 
eral  decorations  of  clay,  only  laughed. 

"The  sign  went  up  only  yesterday,"  he  stated. 

"But  it  is  competition.  Unfair  competition !  He  is 
stealing  our  thunder,"  protested  Applerod. 

"He  has  a  perfect  right  to  lay  out  a  subdivision  if 
he  wants,"  said  Bobby.  "But  don't  worry,  Applerod. 
I've  been  over  there  and  the  thing  is  a  joke.  The  tract 
is  one-fourth  the  size  of  ours,  it  is  uphill  and  down- 
hill, only  a  little  grading  is  being  done,  streets  are 
cut  through  but  not  paved,  and  a  few  cheap  board 
sidewalks  are  being  put  down.  He's  had  to  pay  a  lot 
more  for  his  land  than  we  have,  and  can  not  sell  his 
lots  any  cheaper." 


110    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"There's  no  telling  what  Silas  Trimmer  will  do," 
said  Applerod,  shaking  his  head. 

"Nonsense,"  said  Bobby;  "there  is  no  chance  that 
people  will  pass  by  our  lots  and  buy  one  of  his." 

Applerod  walked  away  unconvinced.  Had  it  been 
any  one  else  than  Silas  Trimmer  who  had  set  up  this 
opposition  he  would  not  have  minded  so  much,  but 
Applerod  had  come  to  have  a  mighty  fear  of  John 
Burnit's  ancient  enemy,  and  presently  he  came  back 
to  Bobby  more  panic-stricken  than  ever. 

"I'm  going  to  sell  my  interest  in  the  Applerod  Ad- 
dition the  minute  I  find  a  buyer,"  he  declared,  "and 
I'd  advise  you  to  do  the  same." 

"Don't  be  foolish,"  counseled  Bobby,  frowning. 
"You  carit  lose." 

"But  man!"  quavered  Applerod.  "I  have  four 
thousand  dollars  of  my  own  cash,  all  I've  been  able 
to  scrape  together  in  a  lifetime,  tied  up  in  this  thing, 
and  I  mustn't  lose !" 

Bobby  regarded  his  father's  old  confidential  clerk 
more  in  sorrow  than  in  anger.  He  was  not  used  to 
dealing  with  men  of  any  age  so  utterly  lacking  in 
gameness. 

"Four  thousand,"  he  repeated,  then  he  looked  across 
his  big  checker-board.  "I'll  give  you  ten  thousand 
for  it  right  now." 

"What !"  objected  Applerod,  aghast.  "Why,  Burn- 


DIAMOND-STUDDED    SPURS          111 

it,  the  work  is  nearly  done  and  I  have  already  in  sight 
seventy-six  thousand  dollars  of  clear  profit  over  my 
investment." 

Bobby  did  not  remind  Applerod  that  his  four  thou- 
sand dollars  represented  only  a  trifling  part  of  the 
investment  required  to  yield  this  seventy-six  thousand 
dollars'  profit.  Yet,  after  all,  there  was  no  flaw  in 
Applerod's  commercial  reasoning. 

"I  didn't  expect  you  to  accept  it,"  replied  Bobby. 
"If  you  were  determined  to  get  out,  however,  you've 
had  an  offer  of  six  thousand  profit,  with  no  risk." 

"I'd  be  crazy,"  declared  Applerod.  "I  can  get  a 
better  price  than  that." 

Bobby  was  thoughtful  for  an  hour  after  Applerod 
had  left  him ;  then  he  hurried  into  the  club-house  and 
telephoned  to  Chalmers.  This  was  in  the  forenoon. 
In  the  afternoon  Applerod  was  served  with  an  in- 
junction based  upon  an  indivisibility  of  interest,  re- 
straining him  from  disposing  of  his  share ;  and  in  his 
anger  he  let  it  slip  out  that  he  had  already  been  try- 
ing to  open  negotiations  with  Trimmer ! 

"Honestly,  it  hurts!"  said  Bobby  wearily,  telling 
of  the  incident  to  Agnes  that  night.  "I  didn't  know 
there  were  so  many  unsportsmanlike  people." 

"I  think  that  is  precisely  what  your  father  wanted 
you  to  find  out,"  she  observed. 

"I  don't  want  to  know  it,"  protested  Bobby.    "I'd 


112    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

stay  much  happier  to  believe  that  everybody  in  the 
world  was  of  the  right  sort." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,  Bobby,"  she  said  gently;  "you  have  to  know 
that  there  is  the  other  kind,  in  order  properly  to  ap- 
preciate truth  and  honor  and  loyalty." 

"I  could  almost  believe  I  was  in  a  Sunday-school 
class,"  grinned  Bobby.  "No  wonder  it's  snowing." 

Agnes  looked  out  of  the  window  with  a  cry  of  de- 
light. Those  floating  flakes  were  the  very  first  snow 
of  the  season ;  but  they  were  by  no  means  the  last. 
The  winter,  delayed,  but  apparently  all  the  more  vio- 
lent for  that  very  reason,  burst  suddenly  upon  the 
city,  stopping  the  finishing  touches  on  both  suburban 
additions.  Came  rain  and  sleet  and  snow,  and  rain 
and  sleet  and  snow  again,  then  biting  cold  that  sank 
deep  into  the  ground  and  sealed  it  as  if  with  a  crust 
of  iron.  March,  that  had  come  in  like  a  lamb,  went 
out  like  a  lion,  and  the  lion  raged  through  April  and 
into  May.  Then,  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come,  the 
belated  winter  passed  away  and  the  warm  sun  beat 
down  upon  the  snow-clad  hills  and  swept  them  clean. 
It  penetrated  into  the  valleys  and  turned  them  into 
rivulets,  thousands  of  which  poured  into  the  river  and 
swelled  its  banks  brimming  full.  The  streets  of  the 
Applerod  Addition  were  quickly  washed  with  their 
own  white  covering  and  dried,  and  immediately  with 


DIAMOND-STUDDED    SPURS          113 

this  break-up  began  the  great  advertising  campaign. 
The  papers  flamed  with  full-page  and  half -page  an- 
nouncements of  the  wonderful  home-making  oppor- 
tunity ;  circulars  were  mailed  to  possible  home-buyers 
by  the  hundred  thousand ;  every  street-car  told  of  the 
bargain  on  striking  cards ;  immense  electric  signs 
blazoned  the  project  by  night;  sixteen-sheet  posters 
were  spread  upon  all  the  bill-boards,  and  every  de- 
vice known  to  expert  advertising  was  requisitioned. 
Not  one  soul  within  the  city  or  within  a  radius  of  fifty 
miles  but  had  kept  constantly  before  him  the  duty  he 
owed  to  himself  to  purchase  a  lot  in  the  marvelous 
Applerod  Addition ;  and  now  indeed  Oliver  P.  Apple- 
rod,  reassured  once  more,  began  to  reap  the  fruit  of 
his  life's  ambitions  as  prospective  buyers  thronged 
to  look  at  his,  frock-coat  and  silk  hat. 

June  the  first  was  set  for  the  date  of  the  "grand 
opening,"  and  though  it  was  not  to  be  a  month  of 
roses,  still  the  earth  looked  bright  and  gay  as  the  time 
approached,  and  Bobby  Burnit  took  Agnes  out  to 
view  his  coming  triumph.  This  was  upon  a  bright  day 
toward  the  end  of  May,  when  those  yellow  squares' 
were  tempered  to  a  golden  green  by  the  tender  young 
grass  that  had  been  sown  at  the  completion  of  the 
grading.  She  had  made  frequent  visits  with  him 
through  the  winter,  and  now  she  gloried  with  him. 

"It  looks  fine,  Bobby,"  she  confessed  with  glowing 


114    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

eyes.  "Fine !  It  really  seems  as  if  you  had  won  your 
spurs." 

"Diamond-studded  ones!"  he  exulted.  "Why, 
Agnes,  the  office  is  besieged  with  requests  for  allot- 
ments. In  spite  of  the  fact  that  we  have  over  eleven 
hundred  lots  for  sale  at  an  average  price  of  six  hun- 
dred dollars,  we're  not  going  to  have  enough  to  go 
around.  The  receipts  will  be  fully  seven  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  our  complete  disbursements,  by  the 
time  we  have  sold  out,  will  not  amount  to  over  two 
hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand.  Of  course,  I  don't 
know — I  haven't  asked,  and  you  wouldn't  tell  me  if  I 
did — just  by  what  promises  you  are  bound,  but  when 
I  close  up  this  deal  you're  going  to  marry  me !  That's 
flat!" 

"You  mustn't  be  too  sure  of  anything  in  this  world, 
Bobby,"  she  warned  him,  but  she  turned  upon  him  a 
smile  that  made  her  words  but  idle  breath. 


CHAPTER  XI 

BOBBY  DISCOVEES  AN  ENEMY  GREATER  THAN  SILAS 
TRIMMER 

ONE  circumstance  only  had  occurred  to  give 
Bobby  any  anxiety.  With  the  beginning  of 
the  thaw  the  water  in  Silas  Trimmer's  eight 
acres  had  begun  slowly  to  rise,  and  he  saw  with  some 
dismay  that  by  far  the  larger  part  of  the  great  nat- 
ural basin  from  which  the  surface  water  had  been 
supplied  to  this  swamp  sloped  from  the  northern  end. 
Not  having  that  expanse  of  one  hundred  and  twenty 
acres  to  spread  over,  it  might  overflow,  and  in  con- 
siderable trepidation  he  sought  Jimmy  Platt.  That 
happy  young  gentleman  only  smiled. 

"I  calculated  upon  that,"  he  informed  Bobby,  "and 
built  your  retaining  wall  two  feet  higher  than  the 
normal  spring  level  for  that  very  reason.  It  will  carry 
all  the  water  than  can  shed  down  from  those  hills." 

Relieved,  Bobby  went  ahead  with  the  preparations 
for  turning  the  Applerod  Addition  into  money,  and 
though  he  saw  the  water  creeping  up  steadily  against 
115 


116    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

the  other  side  of  his  wall,  he  displayed  no  anxiety 
until  it  had  reached  within  three  or  four  inches  of  the 
top.  Then  he  took  Platt  out  with  him  to  have  a  look 
at  it. 

"Don't  you  think  you  ought  to  get  busy?"  he  in- 
quired. "Hadn't  we  better  add  another  foot  to  this 
wall?" 

"Not  necessary,"  said  Jimmy,  shaking  his  head 
positively.  "This  has  been  an  unusual  spring,  but  the 
wet  weather  is  all  over  now,  and  you  can  see  by  the 
water-mark  where  the  level  has  gone  down  a  half  inch 
since  morning.  All  the  moisture  that  has  been  trick- 
ling down  here  during  the  past  week  has  been  from 
the  thawing  out  of  the  frozen  hillsides,  but  those 
slopes  are  almost  dust  dry  now." 

"Suppose  it  should  rain  again?"  insisted  Bobby, 
still  worried. 

"It  couldn't  rain  hard  enough  to  fill  up  these  four 
inches,"  declared  Platt  with  decision.  "Look  here,  Mr. 
Burnit,  I'd  worry  myself  if  there  was  any  cause  what- 
ever. Do  you  suppose  I'd  want  anything  to  happen 
to  my  biggest  and  best  job  so  close  to  my  wedding- 
day?" 

"So  you've  set  the  time,"  said  Bobby,  witH  eager 
pleasure.  He  had  met  Platt's  "best  girl"  and  her 
mother  out  at  the  Addition,  and  liked  her,  as  he  did 
earnest  young  Platt. 


BOBBY   DISCOVERS    AN    ENEMY     117 

"June  the  first,"  replied  Jimmy  exultantly.  "The 
date  of  your  opening — in  the  evening." 

"Don't  forget  to  send  me  an  invitation." 
v    "Will  you  come  ?"  said  Platt.    He  had  wanted  to  ask 
Bobby  before,  but  had  not  been  quite  sure  that  he 
ought. 

"Come!"  replied  Bobby.  "Indeed  I  shall— unless  I 
happen  to  have  a  wedding  of  my  own  on  that  date." 

Bobby  went  away  satisfied  once  more,  and  quite 
willing  to  give  up  the  additional  foot  of  wall.  The 
work  would  entail  considerable  cost,  and  expense  now 
was  much  more  of  an  item  than  it  had  been  a  few 
months  previously.  Already  he  had  spent  upon  this 
project  over  two  hundred  and  ten  thousand  dollars; 
ten  thousand  he  had  given  to  Biff  Bates ;  ten  thousand 
he  had  used  personally,  so  there  was  but  an  insignifi- 
cant portion  left  of  his  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars.  Their  "grand  opening"  would  eat  up 
another  tidy  little  sum,  for  it  was  to  be  an  expensive 
affair.  The  liberal  advertising  that  had  already  ap- 
peared was  augmented  as  the  great  day  approached, 
a  brass  band  had  been  engaged,  a  magnificent  lunch, 
sufficient  to  feed  an  army,  had  been  arranged  for,  and 
every  available  'bus  and  carry-all  and  picnic  wagon 
in  the  city  had  been  secured  to  transport  all  comers, 
free  of  charge,  from  the  end  of  the  car  line  to  the  new 
Addition.  The  price  of  vehicles  was  high,  however, 


118    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

for  Silas  Trimmer  had  already  engaged  quite  a  num- 
ber of  them  to  run  between  the  Applerod  Addition 
and  his  own.  During  the  week  preceding  June  first, 
there  had  appeared,  in  the  local  papers,  advertise- 
ments of  about  one-fourth  the  size  that  Bobby  was 
using,  calling  attention  to  the  opening  of  the  Trim- 
mer Addition,  which  was  to  be  upon  the  same  date. 

On  the  evening  of  May  twenty-ninth,  Bobby  found 
Silas  pacing  the  top  of  the  retaining  wall  which  held 
in  his  swamp,  and  waited  for  the  spider- like  figure  to 
come  across  and  join  him. 

"Too  bad  you  didn't  come  in  with  me,  or  sell  me 
your  property  at  a  reasonable  figure,"  said  Bobby 
affably,  willing,  in  spite  of  his  recent  bitter  experi- 
ence, to  meet  his  competitor  upon  the  same  friendly 
grounds  that  he  would  a  crack  polo  antagonist  on  the 
eve  of  contest.  "It's  a  shame  that  this  could  not  all 
have  been  improved  at  one  time." 

"I'd  just  as  lief  have  my  part  of  it  the  way  it  is," 
said  Silas.  "It's  no  good  now,  but  it's  as  good  as 
yours,"  and  he  climbed  into  his  buggy  and  drove 
away  laughing,  leaving  Bobby  strangely  dissatisfied 
and  doubtful  over  that  strange  remark. 

While  he  was  still  trying  to  unravel  it,  he  noted 
that  the  water  in  Silas'  pond,  which  but  a  day  or  so 
previously  had  been  down  to  fully  nine  inches  from 
the  top,  was  now  climbing  rapidly  upward  again ;  and 


BOBBY    DISCOVERS    AN    ENEMY     119 

there  had  been  no  rain  for  more  than  two  weeks !  The 
thing  was  inexplicable.  He  was  still  puzzling  over 
this  as  he  drove  down  the  road  and  turned  in  at  broad 
Burnit  Avenue  toward  the  club-house.  The  asphalt 
and  the  pavements  were  bone  dry  and  as  clean  as  a 
ball-room  floor,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  young 
grass  was  growing  greener  and  higher  here  than  any- 
where. 

Suddenly  he  ordered  his  chauffeur  to  stop  the  ma- 
chine. He  had  just  passed  a  lot  where,  amid  the  tufts 
of  green,  his  eye  had  caught  the  glint  of  water.  Run- 
ning back  to  it  he  saw  that  the  center  of  that  lot  was 
covered  by  a  small  pool  scarcely  half  an  inch  deep, 
through  which  the  grass  was  growing  dankly.  This, 
too,  was  queer,  for  the  hot  sun  and  strong  breeze  of 
the  past  few  days  should  have  dried  up  every  vestige 
of  moisture.  He  walked  along  the  sidewalk,  studying 
each  of  the  lots  in  turn.  Here  and  there  he  discovered 
other  small  pools,  and  every  lot  bore  the  appearance 
of  having  just  been  freshly  and  too  liberally  watered. 
He  stepped  from  the  pavement  upon  the  earth,  and 
to  his  surprise  his  foot  sank  into  it  to  the  depth  of 
an  inch  or  more.  For  a  while  he  was  deeply  worried, 
but  presently  it  flashed  upon  him  that  all  this  soil  had 
been  dumped  into  the  marsh,  displacing  the  water, 
and  that  in  this  process  it  had  naturally  become 
soaked  through  and  through.  Of  course  it  would  take 


120    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

a  long  time  to  dry  out  and  it  would  be  all  the  better 
for  its  moisture.  The  rate  at  which  grass  was  grow- 
ing was  proof  enough  of  that. 

On  the  next  day,  kept  busy  by  the  preparations  for 
the  big  opening,  Bobby  did  not  get  out  to  the  Apple- 
rod  Addition  until  evening  again.  As  he  neared  it  he 
met  Silas  Trimmer  coming  back  in  his  buck-board, 
that  false  circle  around  his  mouth  very  much  in  evi- 
dence. 

"You  ought  to  have  had  your  opening  yesterday. 
I'd  have  been  tempted  to  buy  a  lot  myself  then," 
shouted  Silas  as  he  passed,  and  Bobby  was  sure  that 
the  tone  was  a  mocking  one. 

Consumed  with  anxiety,  he  hurried  on  to  see  how 
Silas'  swamp  stood.  Aghast,  he  found  the  level  of  the 
water  a  full  inch  higher  than  any  point  that  it  had 
ever  before  reached.  Connecting  this  condition 
vaguely  with  that  other  phenomenon  that  he  had 
noted,  he  whirled  his  runabout  and  ran  back  into 
Burnit  Avenue.  In  twenty-four  hours  a  remarkable 
change  had  been  wrought.  There  were  pools  every- 
where. The  lot  where  he  had  first  noticed  it  was  now 
entirely  covered  with  water,  with  barely  the  tips  of 
the  grass  showing  through.  Frightened,  he  drove  over 
the  entire  Addition,  up  one  street  and  down  another. 
In  many  places  the  lots  were  flooded.  One  entire  block 
had  become  no  more  nor  less  than  a  pond.  At  other 


BOBBY   DISCOVERS    AN    ENEMY     121 

points  the  water,  carrying  with  it  the  yellow  soil,  was 
flowing  over  his  beautiful  clean  sidewalks  and  spread- 
ing its  stain  upon  his  immaculate  streets.  The  dark- 
ness alone  drove  him  from  that  inspection,  and  then 
it  occurred  to  him  to  send  once  more  for  Jimmy  Platt. 
At  the  first  suburban  telephone  station  he  tried  for 
nearly  an  hour  to  locate  his  man,  but  in  vain.  Later 
he  tried  it  from  his  club,  but  could  not  reach  him. 
That  night  was  a  sleepless  one,  and  the  next  morn- 
ing's daybreak  found  him  speeding  out  the  roadway 
to  the  Applerod  Addition. 

Early  as  he  was,  however,  he  found  young  Platt 
there  ahead  of  him  and  in  despair.  He  had  good 
cause.  The  whole  north  end  of  the  Applerod  Addi- 
tion had  turned  black,  and  over  the  top  of  Bobby's 
now  grimy  cement  wall  poured  a  broad,  dark  sheet  of 
the  murky  swamp-water  which  had  stained  it.  The 
pond  of  Silas  Trimmer  had  overflowed  in  spite  of  all 
Platt's  confident  figuring  that  it  could  not,  and  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  dry  weather  had  prevailed  for 
two  solid  weeks.  That  was  the  inexplicable  part. 
Clear  weather,  and  still  the  entire  suburb  was  becom- 
ing practically  submerged!  With  solid,  dry  soil 
surrounding  it,  wherever  the  eye  could  reach  it  had 
become  but  a  morass  of  mud !  Mud  was  smeared  upon 
every  path  and  every  roadway,  and  Bobby's  automo- 
bile slipped  and  slid  in  the  oily,  yellow  liquid  that  lay 


122    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

sluggishly  in  every  gutter  and  blotched  every  rod  of 
his  clean  asphalt. 

Young  Platt's  face  blanched  as  he  saw  Bobby. 

"I've  made  a  miserable  botch  of  it,"  he  confessed, 
torn  with  an  agony  of  regret  at  his  failure;  "and  I 
can't  see  yet  what  I  overlooked.  I'd  no  right  to  tackle 
a  man's  job  like  this !" 

"You !"  replied  Bobby  vehemently.  "It  was  Trim- 
mer who  did  this;  somehow,  someway  he  did  it,  and 
he  flaunts  it  in  our  faces.  Look  there!"  and  he 
pointed  to  a  huge  signboard  that  had  been  erected 
overnight  just  opposite  the  entrance  to  Burnit  Ave- 
nue.- In  huge,  bold  letters,  surmounted  by  a  giant 
hand  that  pointed  the  way,  it  told  prospective  in- 
vestors to  buy  property  in  the  high  and  dry  Trimmer 
Addition,  the  words  "High  and  Dry"  being  twice 
as  large  as  any  other  lettering  upon  the  board. 

"It  is  surely  a  lot  of  nerve,"  admitted  Platt,  "but 
it  is  rank  nonsense  to  say  that  the  man  had  anything 
to  do  with  this  catastrophe.  It  would  have  been  im- 
possible. Let's  look  this  thing  over.  Drive  past  the 
club-house  to  the  extreme  west  side." 

Once  more  they  traversed  the  mud  of  Burnit  Ave- 
nue, and  upon  the  dry,  sloping  ground  the  young 
engineer,  cursing  his  inexperience,  alighted  and 
walked  along  the  edge  of  the  property,  seeking  a  so- 
lution to  the  mystery.  Still  perplexed,  he  ascended 


BOBBY   DISCOVERS    AN    ENEMY     123 

the  rising  ground  and  looked  musingly  across  at  the 
yet  swollen  and  clay-red  river.  Suddenly  an  exclama- 
tion escaped  his  lips. 

"There's  your  enemy,"  he  said  to  Bobby  who  had 
climbed  up  beside  him,  and  pointed  to  the  river.  "The 
river  bank,  I  am  sure,  must  edge  upon  a  tilted  shale 
formation  which  dips  just  below  this  basin.  Prob- 
ably at  all  times  some  of  the  water  from  the  river 
seeps  down  between  two  sand-separated  layers  of  this 
formation  to  find  its  outlet  in  the  marsh,  and  it  is  this 
water  which,  through  a  geological  freak,  has  supplied 
that  swamp  for  ages.  In  the  spring,  however,  and 
in  extraordinary  flood  times,  it  probably  finds  a  higher 
and  looser  stratum,  and  rushes  down  here  with  all  the 
force  of  a  hydraulic  stream.  This  spring  it  took  it 
a  long  time  to  wet  thoroughly  all  our  made  ground 
from  the  bottom  upward.  The  frost,  sinking  deeper 
in  this  loose,  wet  soil  than  elsewhere,  held  it  back, 
too,  for  a  time,  but  as  soon  as  this  was  thoroughly 
out  of  the  ground  the  river  overflow  came  up  like  a 
geyser. 

"Mr.  Burnit,  your  Applerod  Addition  is  ruined, 
and  it  can  never  be  saved,  unless  by  some  extra- 
ordinary means.  Nature  picked  out  this  spot,  cen- 
turies and  centuries  ago,  for  a  swamp,  and  she's 
going  to  have  one  here  in  spite  of  all  that  we  can  do. 
In  five  years  this  basin  won't  be  a  thing  but  black 


124    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

water  and  weeds,  with  only  that  club-house  as  a  de- 
caying monument  to  your  enterprise." 

Bobby  controlled  himself  with  an  effort.  His  face 
was  drawn  and  white ;  but  part  of  that  was  from  the 
anxiety  of  the  past  two  days,  and  he  took  the  blow 
stiff  and  erect,  as  a  good  soldier  stands  up  to  be  dis- 
ciplined. His  eye  roved  over  the  wTork  in  which  he 
had  taken  such  pride,  and  already  he  could  see  in 
fancy  the  dank  weeds  growing  up,  and  the  croaking 
frogs  diving  into  the  oily  surface,  and  the  clouds  of 
mosquitoes  hovering  over  it  again.  Over  the  top  of 
his  retaining  wall  still  poured  the  foul  water  which 
was  to  leaven  all  this,  and  he  gazed  upon  it  with  a 
sharp  intake  of  the  breath. 

"And  to  think  that  Silas  Trimmer  must  have 
known  all  this,  and  led  me  to  waste  a  fortune  just  so 
that  he  could  reap  the  benefit  of  my  advertising  for 
his  own  vulture  advantage!" 

That,  at  first,  was  the  part  which  hurt  more  than 
the  overthrow  of  his  plans,  more  than  the  loss  of  his 
money,  more  than  the  failure  of  his  fight  to  carry  out 
his  father's  wishes  for  his  success :  that  any  one  could 
play  the  game  so  unfairly,  that  there  could  be  in  all 
the  world  people  so  detestable,  so  unprincipled,  so 
unsportsmanlike! 

Slowly  the  vanquished  pair  descended  the  hill  to 
where  the  automobile  stood  upon  the  solid,  level  sward, 


BOBBY   DISCOVERS    AN    ENEMY     125 

but  before  they  climbed  in  Bobby  shook  hands  with  his 
engineer. 

"Don't  blame  yourself  too  much,  old  man,"  lie 
said.  "It  wasn't  a  condition  that  you  could  foresee, 
and  I'm  mighty  sorry  if  it  hurts  your  reputation." 

"It  ought  to!"  exclaimed  Platt  with  deep  self-re- 
vilement.  "I  should  have  investigated.  'I  should  not 
have  taken  anything  for  granted.  I  ought  to  have 
enough  money  so  that  you  could  sue  me  for  damages 
and  recover  all  you  lost." 

"It  couldn't  be  done,"  said  Bobby  miserably.  "I've 
lost  so  much  more  than  money." 

He  did  not  tell  Platt  of  Agnes,  but  that  was  the 
one  thought  into  which  all  his  failure  had  finally  re- 
solved. Agnes !  How  much  longer  must  he  wait  for 
her?  They  had  just  passed  the  club-house  when  a 
light  buggy  turned  into  Burnit  Avenue,  driven  furi- 
ously by  a  white-haired  man  in  a  white  vest  and  a 
high  silk  hat. 

"I  accept  your  offer!"  cried  Applerod,  as  soon  as 
he  came  within  talking  distance,  his  usually  ruddy 
face  now  livid  white. 

"My  offer,"  repeated  Bobby  wonderingly. 

"Yes;  your  offer  of  ten  thousand  dollars  for  my 
share  in  the  Applerod  Addition." 

Bobby  was  forced  to  laugh.  It  had  needed  but 
this  to  make  the  bitter  jest  of  fortune  complete. 


126    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"You  refused  that  offer  the  day  it  was  made,  Apple- 
rod  !"  put  in  Platt  indignantly.  "I  heard  you.  Any- 
how, you  dragged  Mr.  Burnit  into  this  thing !" 

"He's  not  to  blame  for  that,"  said  Bobby.  "But 
still,  I  don't  think  I  care  to  buy  any  more  of  this 
property."  And  he  smiled  grimly  at  the  absurdity 
of  it  all. 

"I'll  sue  you  for  it!"  shrieked  Applerod,  frantic 
from  thwarted  self-interest.  "You  prevented  me  from 
selling  out  at  a  profit  when  I  had  a  chance!  You 
bound  me  hand  and  foot  when  I  knew  that  if  Silas 
Trimmer  had  anything  to  gain  by  it  we  would  lose! 
He  knew  all  the  time  that  this  swamp  was  fed  by 
underground  springs.  He  bragged  about  it  to  me 
this  morning  as  I  passed  him  on  the  road.  He  told 
me  last  night  I'd  better  come  out  here  this  morning." 

"I  see,"  said  Bobby  coldly,  and  he  reached  for  his 
lever. 

"Then  you  won't  hold  good  to  your  offer?"  gasped 
the  other. 

Pale  before,  he  had  turned  ashen  now,  and  Bobby 
looked  at  him  with  quick  compunction.  Applerod, 
always  so  chubbily  youthful  for  a  man  of  his  years, 
was  grown  suddenly  old.  He  seemed  to  have  shrunk 
inside  his  clothes,  his  face  to  have  turned  flabby,  his 
eyes  to  have  dimmed.  After  all,  he  was  an  old  man, 
and  the  little  that  he  had  scraped  together  represented 


BOBBY   DISCOVERS    AN    ENEMY     127 

all  that  he  could  hope  to  amass  in  a  none  too  provi- 
dent lifetime.  This  day  made  him  a  pauper  and  there 
was  no  chance  for  a  fresh  start.  Bobby  himself  was 
young  and  strong,  and,  moreover,  his  resources  were 
by  no  means  exhausted. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Applerod,"  said  he,  after 
a  moment  of  very  sober  thought.  "Your  property 
cost  you  in  the  neighborhood  of  four  thousand.  In- 
terest since  the  time  you  first  began  to  invest  in  it 
would  bring  it  up  to  a  little  more  than  that.  I'll  give 
you  five  thousand." 

"I  won't  accept  it.— Yes,  I  will!  yes,  I  will!"  he 
cried  as  Bobby  impatiently  reached  again  for  his 
lever. 

"Very  well,"  said  Bobby,  "wait  a  minute."  And 
tearing  a  leaf  from  his  memorandum-book  he  wrote  a 
note  to  Johnson  to  see  to  the  transfer  of  the  prop- 
erty and  deliver  to  Applerod  a  check  for  five  thousand 
dollars. 

"That  was  more  than  generous;  it  was  foolish," 
protested  Jimmy  Platt,  as  they  whirled  away. 

"No  doubt,"  admitted  Bobby  dryly.  "But,  if  I'm 
forced  to  be  a  fool,  I  might  as  well  have  a  well-finished 
job  of  it." 


CHAPTER  XII 

AGNES  DECIDES  THAT  SHE  WILL  WAIT 

APPLEROD,    his    poise    nearly    recovered, 
bounded  into  the  office  where  Johnson  sat 
stolidly  working  away,  his  sense  of  personal 
contentedness  enhanced  by  the  presence  of  Biff  Bates, 
who  sat  idly  upon  the  flat-top  desk,  dangling  his  legs 
and  waiting  for  Bobby.     Mr.  Applerod  paid  no  at- 
tention whatever  to  Mr.  Bates,  that  gentleman  being 
quite  beneath  his  notice,  but  with  vast  importance  he 
laid  down  in  front  of  Mr.  Johnson  the  note  which 
Bobby  had  given  him. 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  he  pompously  directed,  "you  will 
please  attend  to  this  little  matter  as  soon  as  possible." 

"Applerod,"  said  Johnson,  glancing  at  the  note 
and  looking  up  with  sudden  fire,  "does  this  mean  that 
'you  are  no  longer  even  partially  my  employer?" 

"That's  it  exactly." 

"Then  you,  Applerod,  don't  you  dare  call  me  Mr. 
Johnson  again!"  And  he  shook  a  bony  fist  at  his 
old-time  work-fellow. 

128 


AGNES    DECIDES    TO    WAIT         129 

Biff  Bates  nearly  fell  off  the  desk,  but  with  rare 
presence  of  mind  restrained  his  glee. 

Mr.  Applerod,  smiling  loftily,  immediately  wielded 
his  bludgeon. 

"We  should  not  quarrel  over  trifles,"  he  stated 
commiseratingly.  "We  are  once  more  companions  in 
misfortune.  There  is  no  Applerod  Addition.  It  is  a 
swamp  again." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Johnson  incredu- 
lously, but  suspending  his  indignation  for  the  instant. 

"This,"  said  Applerod:  "that  the  entire  addition 
is  a  hundred-acre  mud  puddle  this  morning.  You 
couldn't  sell  a  lot  in  it  to  a  blind  man.  Every  cent 
that  was  invested  in  it  is  lost.  The  whole  marsh  was 
fed  from  underground  springs  that  have  come  up 
through  it  and  overflowed  the  place." 

"Trimmer  again,"  said  Biff  Bates,  and  slid  off  the 
desk ;  then  he  looked  at  his  watch  with  a  curious  specu- 
lative smile. 

"But  if  it  is  all  lost,"  protested  Johnson,  looking 
again  at  the  note  and  pausing  in  the  making  out  of 
the  check,  "how  do  you  come  to  get  this?" 

"He  owed  it  to  me,"  asserted  Applerod.  "I  wanted 
to  sell  out  when  I  first  found  that  we  were  competing 
with  Silas  Trimmer,  and  young  Burnit  kept  me  from 
it  by  an  injunction.  He  offered  me  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  my  interest  once,  but  this  morning  when 


130    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

I  went  to  accept  that  offer  he  would  only  give  me 
this  five  thousand.  It's  just  five  thousand  dollars  that 
he's  robbed  'me  of." 

"Robbed!''  shrilled  Johnson,  jumping  from  his 
chair.  "Applerod,  you  weigh  a  hundred  and  eighty 
pounds  and  I  weigh  a  hundred  and  thirty-seven,  but 
I  can  lick  you  the  best  day  you  ever  lived;  and  by 
thunder  and  blazes !  if  you  let  fall  another  remark  like 
that  I'll  knock  your  infernal  head  off !" 

Mr.  Johnson  had  on  no  coat,  but  he  felt  the  urgent 
need  to  remove  something,  so  he  tore  off  one  false 
sleeve,  wadded  it  up  in  a  little  ball  and  slammed  it 
on  the  floor  with  great  vigor,  tore  off  the  other  one, 
wadded  it  up  and  slammed  that  down.  Biff  Bates, 
quivering  with  joy,  rang  loudly  upon  a  porcelain 
electric-light  shade  with  his  pencil  and  called: 
"Time!" 

There  was  no  employment  for  a  referee,  however, 
for  Mr.  Applerod,  with  astonishing  agility,  sprang 
to  the  door  and  held  it  half  open,  ready  for  a  hurried 
'  exit  in  case  of  any  other  demonstration.  It  was  shock- 
ing to  think  that  he  might  be  drawn  into  an  undigni- 
fied altercation — and  with  a  mere  clerk!  Also,  it 
might  be  dangerous. 

"Nothing  doing,  chum,"  said  Biff  Bates  disgustedly 
to  his  friend  Johnson.  "This  bunch  of  mush-ripe 
bananas  ain't  even  a  quitter.  He's  a  never-beginner. 


AGNES    DECIDES    TO   WAIT         131 

But  you'll  do  fine,  old  scout.  Come  along  with  me. 
I  got  a  treat  for  you." 

Mr.  Johnson,  breathing  scorn  that  alternately 
dented  and  inflated  his  nostrils,  slowly  donned  his  coat 
and  hat  without  removing  his  eyes  from  Applerod, 
who,  as  the  two  approached  the  door,  edged  uncer- 
tainly away  from  it. 

"I've  got  to  go  out,  anyhow,"  said  Johnson,  ad- 
dressing his  remarks  exclusively  to  Mr.  Bates,  but 
his  glare  exclusively  to  Mr.  Applerod.  "I'm  going 
to  put  this  check  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Chalmers,  so 
Mr.  Robert  don't  get  cheated  by  any  yellow-livered 
snake  in  the  grass!"  And  he  spit  out  those  last  vio- 
lent words  with  a  sudden  vehemence  which  made  Mr. 
Applerod  drop  his  shiny  hat. 

When  Bobby  came  into  the  office  a  few  minutes 
later  he  found  Applerod,  his  hat  upon  his  lap,  waiting 
in  one  of  the  customers'  chairs  with  stiff  solemnity. 

"Why  aren't  you  at  your  desk,  Applerod?"  asked 
Bobby  sharply.  "You  have  an  immense  amount  of 
unopened  mail,  and  some  of  it  may  contain  checks 
which  will  have  to  be  sent  back." 

"Mr.  Burnit,"  said  Mr.  Applerod,  rising  withf 
great  dignity  and  throwing  back  his  shoulders,  "I 
consider  myself  no  longer  in  your  employ.  I  have 
resigned." 

Bobby  looked  at  him  thoughtfully  and  weighed 


132    THE  MAKING  OF.  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

rapidly  in  his  mind  a  great  many  things.  He  re- 
membered that  his  father  had  once  said  of  the  two 
men:  "Johnson  has  a  pea-green  liver  and  is  a  pes- 
simist, but  he  is  honest.  Applerod  suffers  from  too 
much  health  and  is  an  optimist,  and  I  presume  him 
to  be  honest,  but  I  never  tested  it."  Yet  his  father 
had  seen  fit  to  keep  Applerod  in  his  intimate  employ 
all  these  years,  recognizing  in  him  material  of  value. 
Moreover,  he  had  advised  Bobby  to  keep  both  men, 
and  Bobby,  to-day  more  than  ever,  placed  great  faith 
in  the  wisdom  of  his  father. 

"Mr.  Applerod,"  said  he,  "I  'dislike  to  be  harsh 
with  you,  but  if  you  don't  put  up  your  hat  and  get 
at  that  bundle  of  mail  I  shall  be  compelled  to  consider 
discharging  you.  Where's  Johnson?" 

"He  went  out  with  Mr.  Bates,  sir." 

When  Bobby  left,  Applerod  was  industriously 
sorting  the  mail  on  his  desk,  preparing  to  open  it. 

Bobby  let  himself  into  the  big  new  gymnasium 
and  walked  back  through  the  deserted  hall  to  the 
small  room  that  was  used  for  individual  training. 
As  he  neared  the  door  he  could  hear  the  sound  of  loud 
voices  and  the  shuffling  of  feet,  and  heard  the  com- 
manding voice  of  Biff  Bates  shout  "Break !" 

The  door  was  locked,  but  through  the  slide  window 
at  the  side  a  strange  tableau  met  his  eyes.  Stooped 
and  lean  Johnson,  as  chalk-white  of  face  as  ever,  had 


AGNES    DECIDES    TO    WAIT         133 

paunchy  and  thin-legged  Silas  Trimmer  by  the  collar, 
and  over  Biff  Bates'  intervening  body  was  trying 
to  rain  blows  into  the  center  of  the  circular  smile,  now, 
flattened  to  an  oval  of  distress. 

"Break,  Johnson,  break !"  begged  Biff.  "Don't  put 
him  out  till  you  feed  him  all  he's  got  coming."  There- 
upon he  succeeded  in  extracting  Mr.  Trimmer  from 
the  grasp  of  Mr.  Johnson  and  forced  the  former 
back  upon  a  chair,  where  he  began  to  fan  him  with 
a  towel  in  most  approved  fashion. 

"Let  me  out  of  this !"  gasped  Mr.  Trimmer.  <T11 
have  you  arrested  for  assault  and  conspiracy." 

"They'll  only  pinch  a  corpse,  for  the  cops'll  find 
me  tickled  to  death  when  they  get  here,"  responded 
Mr.  Bates  gaily.  "Now  you're  all  right.  Get  up !" 

"Let  me  out  of  this,  I  say !"  commanded  Mr.  Trim- 
mer frantically.  "I'll  run  you  into  the  penitentiary ! 
I'll  break  you  up  in  business !  I'll  hire  thugs  to  break 
every  bone  in  your  body !" 

"Is  that  all?"  inquired  Biff  complacently,  and 
grabbed  him  as  he  started  to  run  around  the  room  in' 
a  wild  hunt  for  an  outlet.  "Stand  up  here  and  put 
up  a  fight  or  I'll  punch  you  myself.  I've  been  aching 
to  do  it  for  a  year.  That's  why  I  got  Doc  Willets 
to  dope  it  out  to  you  that  you  was  dyin'  for  training, 
and  why  I  kept  shifting  your  hour  to  when  there  was 
nobody  here.  Go  to  him,  chum!" 


134    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Then  ensued  the  strangest  sparring  match  that  the 
grinning  and  stealthily  silent  Bobby  had  ever  seen. 
Johnson,  with  a  true  "tiger  crouch"  which  he  could 
not  have  avoided  if  he  had  wished,  began  dancing 
around  and  around  the  spherical  body  of  Mr.  Trim- 
mer, without  science  and  without  precaution,  keeping 
his  two  arms  going  like  windmills,  and  occasionally 
landing  a  light  blow  upon  some  portion  of  Mr.  Trim- 
mer's unresisting  anatomy ;  but  finally  a  whirl  so 
vigorous  that  it  sent  Johnson  spinning  upon  his 
own  heel,  landed  squarely  beneath  the  jaw  of  Silas. 
That  gentleman,  with  a  puffed  eye  and  a  bleeding  lip 
and  two  teeth  gone,  rose  from  his  feet  with  the  im- 
pact of  the  blow,  and  landed  with  a  grunt  in  a  huge 
basket  of  soiled  bath-towels. 

"Johnson,"  called  the  laughter-shaken  voice  of 
Bobby  through  the  window,  "I'm  ashamed  of  you!" 

Mr.  Johnson  looked  up  happily  from  his  task  of 
wiping  away  a  little  trickle  of  blood  from  his  already 
swollen  nose. 

"Did  you  see  me  do  it?"  he  demanded,  thrilling 
with  pride.  "Mr.  Burnit,  I — I  never  had  so  much  fun 
in  my  life.  Never,  never!  By  the  way,  sir,"  and 
even  upon  that  triumphant  moment  his  duty  obtruded, 
"I  have  a  letter  for  you  that  I  brought  away  from 
the  office,"  and  through  the  window  he  handed  one  of 
the  inevitable  gray  envelopes.  It  was  inscribed: 


AGNES    DECIDES    TO    WAIT         135 

To  My  Son,  Upon  the  Failure  of  Applerod's  Swamp 
Scheme 

"In  the  midst  of  pleasure  we  are  in  pain,"  mur- 
mured Bobby,  and  tore  open  the  letter.  In  it  he 
read: 

"My  Dear  Boy : 

"A  man  must  not  only  examine  a  business  proposi- 
tion from  all  sides,  but  must  also  turn  it  over  and 
look  well  at  the  bottom.  I  never  knew  what  was  the 
matter  with  that  swamp  scheme,  except  Applerod, 
but  I  didn't  want  to  know  any  more.  You  did. 

"Well,  you  don't  need  wisdom.     I've  put  one-half 

your  fortune  where  it  will  yield  you  a  living  income. 

Try  to  cut  at  least  one  eye-tooth  with  the  other  half. 

Your  trustee  is  instructed  to  give  you  another  start. 

"YouR  LOVING  FATHER." 

His  trustee!  Once  more  he  must  face  her  with 
failure;  go  to  her  beaten,  and  accept  through  her 
hands  the  means  to  gain  himself  another  buffeting. 
He  had  not  the  heart  to  see  her  now,  but  he  was  not 
turned  altogether  coward,  for  leaving  the  scene  of 
the  late  conflict  abruptly,  all  its  humor  spoiled  for 
him,  he  telephoned  her  what  had  happened  and  that 
he  would  be  out  in  the  evening. 

"No,  you  must  come  now.    I  want  you,"  she  gently 


136    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT. 

insisted,  and  when  he  had  come  to  her  she  went  directly 
to  him  and  put  both  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders. 

"It  wasn't  fair,  Bobby ;  it  wasn't  fair !"  she  cried. 
"None  of  it  is  fair,  and  your  father  had  no  right  to 
bind  me  down  with  promises  when  you  need  me  so. 
I'm  willing  to  break  them  all.  Bobby,  I'll  marry  you 
to-morrow  if  you  say  so." 

He  drew  a  long,  trembling  breath,  and  then  he 
put  his  hands  gently  upon  both  her  cheeks  and  kissed 
her  on  the  forehead. 

"Let's  don't,"  he  said  simply.  "I  have  my  own 
blood  up  now,  and  I  want  to  take  this  other  chance. 
I  want  to  play  the  game  out  to  the  end.  You'll  wait, 
won't  you?" 

She  looked  up  at  him  through  moist  eyes.  He  was 
so  big  and  so  strong  and  so  good,  and  already 
through  the  past  year  of  earnest  purpose  there  had 
come  firm,  new  lines  upon  his  face,  lines  that  meant 
something  in  the  ultimate  building  of  character ;  and 
she  recognized  that  perhaps  stern  old  John  Burnit 
had  been  right  after  all. 

"Indeed,  I  can  wait,"  she  whispered.  "Proudly, 
Bobby." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

IN  WHICH  A  CHARMING  GENTLEMAN  OFFERS  AN 
INVESTMENT  WITHOUT  A  FLAW 

IT  was  pretty,  in  the  succeeding  days,  to  see 
Agnes  poring  over  advertisements  and  writing 
down  long  lists  of  suggested  enterprises  for 
investigation,  enterprises  which  proved  in  every  case 
to  be  in  the  midst  of  an  already  too  thickly  contested 
field,  or  to  be  hampered  by  monopoly,  or  subject  to 
some  other  vital  drawback.  There  seemed  to  be  a 
strange  dearth  of  safe  and  suitable  commercial  ven- 
tures, a  fact  over  which  Bobby  and  Agnes  together 
puzzled  almost  nightly.  There  was  to  be  no  false 
start  this  time;  no  stumbling  in  the  middle  of  the 
race ;  no  third  failure.  The  third  time  was  to  be  the 
charm.  And  yet  too  much  time  must  not  be  wasted. 
They  both  began  to  feel  rather  worried  about  this. 

Of  course,  there  was  a  letter,  in  the  familiar  gray 
envelope.  It  had  been  handed  to  Bobby  by  Johnson 
upon  the  day  the  second  check  for  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  had  been  paid  over  by  Chalmers  upon 
Agnes'  order,  and  it  read: 
137 


138    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

To  My  Son  Robert, 
Upon  His  Third  Attempt  to  Make  Money 

"The  man  who  has  never  failed  has  been  either  too 
lucky  or  too  timid  to  have  much  tried  and  tested 
worth.  The  man  who  always  fails  is  too  useless  to 
talk  about.  As  you've  failed  twice  you're  neither  too 
lucky  nor  too  timid.  It  remains  to  be  seen  if  you  are 
too  useless. 

"Remember  that  money  isn't  the  only  audible  thing 
in  this  world ;  but  it  makes  more  noise  than  anything 
else.  A  vast  number  of  people  call  money  vulgar; 
but,  if  you'll  notice,  this  opinion  is  chiefly  held  by 
those  who  haven't  been  able  to  secure  any  of  it. 

"I  wouldn't  have  you  sacrifice  any  decent  principle 
to  get  it,  because  that  is  not  necessary ;  but  go  get 
money  of  your  own,  and  see  what  a  difference  there 
is  between  dollars.  A  dollar  you've  made  is  as  differ- 
ent from  a  dollar  that's  given  to  you  as  your  children 
are  from  other  people's." 

"If  only  the  governor  had  pointed  out  some  good 
business  for  me  to  go  into,"  complained  Bobby  as  he 
read  this  letter  over  with  Agnes. 

She  shook  her  head  soberly.  She  realized,  more 
than  he  possibly  could,  as  yet,  just  where  Bobby's 
weaknesses  lay.  She  had  worried  over  them  not  a 
little,  of  late,  and  she  was  just  as  anxious  as  old 
John  Burnit  had  been  to  have  him  correct  those  de- 
fects ;  and  she,  like  Bobby's  father,  was  only  thankful 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         139 

that  they  were  not  defects  of  manliness,  of  courage 
or  of  moral  or  mental  fiber.  They  were  only  defects 
of  training,  for  which  the  elder  Burnit,  as  he  had 
himself  confessed,  was  responsible. 

"That  isn't  what  he  wanted  at  all,  Bobby,"  she 
protested.  "The  very  fact  of  your  two  past  failures 
shows  just  how  right  he  was  in  making  you  find  out 
things  for  yourself.  The  chief  trouble,  I  am  afraid, 
is  that  you  have  been  too  ready  to  furnish  the  money 
and  let  others  spend  it  for  you." 

"I  know,"  said  Bobby.  "I  have  been  too  willing 
to  take  everybody's  word,  I  guess ;  but  I  have  always 
been  able  to  do  that  in  my  crowd,  and  it  is  rather  a 
dash  to  me  to  find  that  in  business  you  can  not  do  it. 
However,  I  have  reformed." 

He  said  this  so  self-confidently  that  Agnes  laughed. 

"Yes,"  she  admitted,  "you  are  convinced  that 
Silas  Trimmer  is  a  thief  and  a  rascal,  and  you  would 
not  take  his  word  for  anything.  You  are  convinced 
that  Applerod's  judgment  is  useless  and  that  your 
own  does  not  amount  to  much,  but  I  still  believe  that 
the  next  plausible  looking  and  plausible  talking  man 
who  comes  to  you  can  engage  you  in  any  business  that 
seems  fair  on  the  surface." 

"I  deserve  what  you  say,"  he  confessed,  but  some- 
what piqued,  nevertheless.  "However,  I  don't  think 
you  are  giving  me  credit  for  having  learned  any  les- 


140    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

son  at  all.  Why,  only  to-day  you  ought  to  have  heard 
me  turning  down  a  proposition  to  finance  a  new  and 
improved  washing-machine.  Sounded  very  good  and 
feasible,  too.  The  man  was  a  good  talker  and  thor- 
oughly earnest  and  honest,  I  am  sure.  I  really  did 
want  to  help  the  fellow  start  his  business,  but  some- 
how or  other  I  could  not  seem  to  like  the  idea  of 
washing-machines ;  such  a  sudsy  sort  of  business." 

Agnes  laughed  the  sort  of  a  laugh  that  always 
made  him  want  to  catch  hold  of  her,  but  if  he  had  any 
intentions  in  that  respect  they  were  interfered  with 
just  now  by  Uncle  Dan,  who  strolled  into  the  parlor 
in  his  dressing- jacket  and  with  a  cigar  tilted  in  the 
corner  of  his  mouth. 

"How's  the  Commercial  Board  of  Strategy  coming 
on?"  he  inquired  as  he  offered  Bobby  a  cigar. 

"Fine!"  declared  Bobby;  "except  that  it  can  not 
think  of  a  strategem." 

"I  think  you  are  very  selfish  not  to  help  us  out, 
Uncle  Dan,"  declared  Agnes.  "With  all  your  ex- 
perience 'you  ought  to  be  able  to  suggest  something 
for  Bobby  to  go  into  that  would  be  a  nice  business 
and  perfectly  safe  and  make  him  lots  of  money  with- 
out requiring  too  much  experience  to  start  with." 

"Young  lady,"  said  Uncle  Dan  severely,  "if  I  knew 
a  business  of  that  kind  I'd  sell  some  of  the  stock  of 
my  factory  and  go  into  it  myself;  but  I  don't.  The 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         141 

fact  is,  there  are  no  business  snaps  lying  around 
loose.  You  have  to  make  one,  and  that  takes  not  just 
money,  but  work  and  brains." 

"I'm  perfectly  willing  to  work,"  declared  Bobby. 

"And  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  he  hasn't  brains !" 
objected  Agnes. 

"No-o-o,"  admitted  Uncle  Dan.  "I  am  quite  sure 
that  Bobby  has  brains,  but  they  have  not  been  quite 
— a — a — well,  say  solidified,  yet.  You're  not  allowed 
to  smoke  in  this  parlor,  Bobby.  Mrs.  Elliston  wants 
a  quiet  home  game  of  whist;  sent  me  to  bring  you 
up" 

Secretly,  old  Dan  Elliston  was  himself  puzzling 
a  great  deal  over  a  career  for  Bobby,  but  up  to  the 
moment  had  not  found  anything  that  he  thought 
safe  to  propose.  Not  having  a  good  idea  he  was 
averse  to  discussing  any  project  whatsoever,  and  so, 
each  time  that  he  was  consulted  upon  the  subject,  he 
was  as  evasive  as  this  about  it,  and  Bobby  each  morn- 
ing dragged  perplexedly  into  the  handsome  offices  of 
the  defunct  Applerod  Addition,  where  Applerod  and 
Johnson  were  still  working  a  solid  eight  hours  a  day 
to  straighten  out  the  affairs  of  that  unfortunate 
venture. 

Those  offices  were  the  dullest  quarters  Bobby  knew, 
for  they  contained  nothing  but  the  dead  ashes  of 
bygone  money;  but  one  morning  business  picked  up 


142    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

with  a  jerk.  He  found  a  mine  investment  agent 
awaiting  him  when  he  arrived,  and  before  he  was 
through  with  this  clever  conversationalist  a  man  was 
in  to  get  him  to  buy  a  racing  stable.  Affairs  grew 
still  more  brisk  as  the  morning  wore  on.  Within  the 
next  two  hours  he  had  politely  but  firmly  declined  to 
'buy  a  partnership  in  a  string  of  bucket  shops,  to  re- 
finance a  defunct  irrigation  company,  to  invest  in  a 
Florida  plantation,  to  take  a  tip  on  copper,  and  to 
back  an  automobile  factory  which  was  to  enter  busi- 
ness upon  some  designs  of  a  new  engine  stolen  by  a 
discharged  workman. 

"How  did  all  these  people  find  out  that  I  have  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  invest?"  im- 
patiently demanded  Bobby,  after  he  had  refused  the 
allurements  of  a  patent-medicine  scheme,  the  last  of 
that  morning's  lot. 

There  followed  a  dense  silence,  in  the  midst  of 
which  old  Johnson  looked  up  from  the  book  in  which 
he  was  entering  a  long,  long  list  of  items  on  the  wrong 
side  of  the  profit  and  loss  account,  and  jerked  his 
lean  thumb  angrily  in  the  direction  of  Applerod. 

"Ask  him,"  he  said. 

Chubby-faced  old  Applerod,  excessively  meek  of 
spirit  to-day,  suffered  a  moment  of  embarrassment 
under  the  accusing  eyes  of  young  Burnit. 

"The  newspapers,  sir,"  he  admitted,  twisting  un- 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         143 

comfortably  in  his  swivel  chair.  "The  reporters  were 
here  yesterday  afternoon  with  the  idea  that  since  you 
haven't  announced  any  future  plans,  the  failure  of 
our  real  estate  scheme — my  real  estate  scheme,"  he 
corrected  in  response  to  a  snort  and  a  glare  from 
Johnson — "had  left  you  penniless.  Of  course  I 
wasn't  going  to  let  them  go  away  with  that  impres- 
sion, so  I  told  them  that  you  had  another  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  invest,  with  probably 
more  to  follow,  if  necessary." 

"And  of  course,"  groaned  Bobby,  "it  is  all  in  print, 
with  ingenious  trimmings." 

From  a  drawer  in  his  desk  Johnson  quietly  drew 
copies  of  the  morning  papers,  each  one  folded  care- 
fully to  an  article  in  which,  under  wide  variations  of 
embarrassing  head-lines,  the  facts  of  Bobby's  latest 
frittering  of  his  father's  good  money  were  once  more 
facetitiously,  even  gleefully,  set  forth  and  embel- 
lished, with  added  humorous  speculations  as  to  how 
he  would  probably  cremate  his  new  fund.  Bobby 
was  about  to  turn  into  his  own  room  to  absorb  his 
humiliation  in  secret  when  Applerod  hesitantly 
stopped  him. 

"Another  thing,  sir,"  he  said.  "Mr.  Frank  L. 
Sharpe  called  up  early  this  morning  to  know  when 
he  would  find  you  in,  and  I  took  the  liberty  of  telling 
him  that  you  would  very  likely  be  here  at  ten  o'clock." 


144    THE  MAKING  OF.  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Bobby  frowned  slightly  at  the  mention  of  that 
name.  He  knew  of  Sharpe  vaguely  as  a  man  whose 
private  life  had  been  so  scandalous  that  society  had 
ceased  to  shudder  at  his  name — it  simply  refused  to 
hear  it ;  a  man  who  had  even  secured  advancement  by 
obligingly  divorcing  his  first  wife  so  that  the  notori- 
ous Sam  Stone  could  marry  her. 

"What  did  he  want?"  he  asked  none  too  graciously. 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  said  Applerod;  "but  he  tele- 
phoned me  again  just  as  you  were  getting  rid  of  this 
last  caller.  I  told  him  that  you  were  here  and  he  said 
that  he  would  be  right  over." 

Bobby  made  no  reply  to  this,  but  went  thoughtfully 
into  his  room  and  closed  the  door  after  him.  In  less 
than  five  minutes  the  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Applerod, 
his  voice  fairly  oily  with  obsequiousness,  announced 
Mr.  Frank  L.  Sharpe!  Why,  here  is  a  man  whose 
name  was  in  the  papers  every  morning,  noon  and 
night!  Mr.  Sharpe  had  taken  a  trip  to  New  York 
on  behalf  of  the  Gas  Company ;  Mr.  Sharpe  had  re- 
turned from  his  trip  to  New  York  on  behalf  of  the 
Gas  Company;  Mr.  Sharpe  had  entertained  at  the 
Hotel  Spender;  Mr.  Sharpe  had  made  a  speech;  Mr. 
Sharpe  had  been  interviewed;  Mr.  Sharpe  had  been 
indisposed  for  half  a  day ! 

Quite  prepossessing  of  appearance  was  Mr. 
Sharpe;  a  tall,  rather  slight  gentleman,  whose  fea- 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         145 

tures  no  one  ever  analyzed  because  the  eyes  of  the 
observer  stopped,  fascinated,  at  his  mustache.  That 
wonderful  adornment  was  wohderfully  luxuriant, 
gray  and  curly,  pretty  to  an  extreme,  and  kept  most 
fastidiously  trimmed,  and  it  lifted  when  he  smiled  to 
display  a  most  engaging  row  of  white,  even  teeth. 
Centered  upon  this  magnificent  combination  the  gaze 
never  roved  to  the  animal  nose,  to  the  lobeless  ears, 
to  the  watery  blue  eyes  half  obscured  by  the  lower 
lids.  He  was  immaculately,  though  a  shade  too  youth- 
fully, dressed  in  a  gray  frock  suit,  with  pearl-gray 
spats  upon  his  shoes,  and  he  was  most  charmed  to  see 
young  Mr.  Burnit. 

"You  have  a  very  neat  little  suite  of  offices  here, 
Mr.  Burnit,"  he  commented,  seating  himself  grace- 
fully and  depositing  his  gray  hat,  his  gray  cane  and 
his  gray  gloves  carefully  to  one  side  of  him  upon 
Bobby's  desk. 

"I'm  afraid  they  are  a  little  too  nice  for  practical 
purposes,"  Bobby  confessed.  "I  have  found  that 
business  isn't  a  parlor  game." 

"Precisely  what  I  came  to  see  you  about,"  said  Mr. 
Sharpe.  "I  understand  you  have  been  a  trifle  unfor- 
tunate, but  that  is  because  you  did  not  go  into  the 
regular  channels.  An  established  and  paying  cor- 
poration is  the  only  worth-while  proposition,  and  if 
you  have  not  yet  settled  upon  an  investment  I  would 


146    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

like  to  suggest  that  you  become  interested  in  our  local 
Brightlight  Electric  Company." 

"I  thought  there  was  no  gas  or  electric  stock  for 
sale,"  said  Bobby  slowly,  clinging  still  to  a  vague  im- 
'pression  that  he  had  gained  five  or  six  years  before. 

"Not  to  the  public,"  replied  Mr.  Sharpe,  smiling, 
"and  there  would  not  have  been  privately  except  for 
the  necessity  of  a  reorganization.  The  Brightlight 
needs  more  capital  for  expansion,  and  I  have  too 
many  other  interests,  even  aside  from  the  Consumers' 
Electric  Light  and  Power  and  the  United  Gas  and 
Fuel  Companies,  to  spare  the  money  myself — and  the 
Brightlight  is  too  good  to  let  the  general  public  in 
on."  He  smiled  again,  quite  meaningly  this  time. 
"This  is  quite  confidential,  of  course,"  he  added. 

Bobby  bowed  his  acknowledgment  of  the  confidence 
which  had  been  reposed  in  him,  and  generously  began 
at  once  to  reconstruct  his  impressions  of  the  impossi- 
ble Mr.  Sharpe.  You  couldn't  believe  all  you  heard, 
you  know. 

"The  Brightlight,"  went  on  Mr.  Sharpe,  "Is  at 
present  capitalized  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars,  and  is  a  good  ten-per-cent.-dividend- 
paying  stock  at  the  present  moment ;  but  its  business 
is  not  growing,  and  I  propose  to  take  in  sufficient  cap- 
ital to  raise  the  Brightlight  to  a  half-million-dollar 
corporation,  clear  off  its  indebtedness  and  project 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         147 

certain  extensions.  I  understand  that  you  have  the 
necessary  amount,  and  here  is  the  proposition  I  offer 
you.  Brightlight  stock  is  now  quoted  at  a  hundred 
and  seventy-two.  We  will  double  its  present  capi- 
talization, and  you  may  take  up  the  extra  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  its  stock  at 
par,  or  about  three-fifths  of  its  actual  value.  That 
is  a  bargain  to  be  snapped  at,  Mr.  Burnit." 

Did  Bobby  Burnit  snap  at  this  proposition?  He 
did  not.  Bobby  had  learned  caution  through  his  two 
bitter  failures,  and  of  caution  is  born  wisdom. 

"Two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
stock  in  a  five-hundred-thousand-dollar  corporation 
won't  do  for  me,"  he  declared  with  a  firmness  that  was 
pleasant  to  his  own  ears.  "I  don't  care  to  go  into 
any  proposition  in  which  I  have  not  the  controlling 
interest." 

Mr.  Sharpe,  remembering  the  details  of  Bobby's 
Trimmer  and  Company  experiment,  hastily  turned 
his  imminent  smile  of  amusement  into  a  merely  en- 
gaging one. 

"I  don't  blame  you,  Mr.  Burnit,"  said  he ;  "but  to 
show  you  that  I  am  more  willing  to  trust  you  than 
you  are  to  trust  me,  if  you  care  to  go  into  this  thing 
I'll  agree  to  sell  you  from  one  to  ten  shares  of  my 
individual  stock — at  its  present  market  value,  of 


148    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"That's  very  good  of  you,"  agreed  Bobby,  sud- 
denly ashamed  of  his  ungenerous  stand  in  the  face 
of  this  sportsmanlike  attitude.  "But  really  I've  had 
cause  for  timidity." 

"Caution  is  not  cowardice,"  said  Mr.  Sharpe  in  a 
tone  which  conveyed  a  world  of  friendly  approbation. 
"This  matter  must  be  taken  up  very  soon,  however, 
and  I  can  not  allow  you  more  than  a  week  to  investi- 
gate. I'd  be  pleased  to  receive  your  legal  and  busi- 
ness advisers  at  any  time  you  may  nominate,  and  to 
give  them  any  advantage  you  may  wish." 

"I'll  investigate  it  at  least,  and  I  thank  you  for 
giving  me  the  opportunity,"  said  Bobby,  really  very 
contrite  that  he  had  been  doing  Sharpe  such  a  mental 
injustice  all  these  years.  "By  the  way,"  he  suddenly 
added,  "has  Silas  Trimmer  anything  whatever  to  do 
with  this  proposition?" 

Mr.  Sharpe  smiled. 

"Mr.  Trimmer  does  not  own  one  share  of  stock  in 
the  Brightlight  Electric  Company,  nor  will  he  own 
it,"  he  answered. 

"In  that  case,"  said  Bobby,  "I  am  satisfied  to  con- 
sider your  offer  without  fear  of  heart-disease." 
'     The  departing  caller  met  an  incoming  one  in  the 
outer  office,  and  Agnes,  sweeping  into  Bobby's  room, 
breathlessly  gasped: 

"That  was  Frank  Sharpe !" 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         149 

"The  same,"  admitted  Bobby,  smiling  down  at  her 
and  taking  both  her  hands. 

"I  never  saw  him  so  closely,"  she  declared.  "Re- 
ally, he's  quite  distinguished-looking." 

"As  long  as  he  avoids  a  close  shave,"  supplemented 
Bobby.  "But  what  brings  you  into  the — the  busy 
marts  of  trade  so  early  in  the  morning?" 

"My  trusteeship,"  she  answered  him  loftily,  pro- 
ducing some  documents  from  her  hand-bag.  "And 
I'm  in  a  hurry.  Sign  them  papers." 

"Them  there  papers,"  he  kindly  corrected,  and 
seating  himself  at  his  desk  he  examined  the  minor 
transfers  perfunctorily  and  signed  them. 

"I'm  afraid  I'm  a  failure  as  a  trustee,"  she  told 
him.  "I  ought  to  have  had  more  power.  J  ought  to 
have  been  authorized  to  keep  you  out  of  bad  company. 
How  came  Mr.  Sharpe  to  call  on  you,  for  instance?" 

"To  make  my  fortune,"  he  gravely  assured  her. 
"Mr.  Sharpe  wants  me  to  go  into  the  Brightlight 
Electric  Company  with  him." 

"I  can  imagine  your  courteous  adroitness  in  put- 
ting the  man  back  in  his  place,"  she  laughed.  "How 
preposterous!  Why,  he's  utterly  impossible!" 

"Ye-e-es?"  questioned  Bobby.  "But  you  know, 
Agnes,  this  isn't  a  pink-tea  affair.  It's  business, 
which  is  at  the  other  end  of  the  world." 

"You're  not  honestly  defending  him,  Bobby?"  she 


150    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

protested  incredulously.  "Why,  I  do  believe  you  are 
considering  the  man  seriously!" 

"Why  not?"  he  persisted,  arguing  against  his  own 
/convictions  as  much  as  against  hers.  "We  want  me 
to  make  some  money,  don't  we?  To  make  a  success 
that  will  let  me  marry  you?" 

"I'm  not  to  say  so,  remember,"  she  reminded  him. 

"Father  put  no  lock  on  my  tongue,  though,"  he 
reminded  her  in  turn;  "so  I'll  just  lay  down  the  dic- 
tum that  as  soon  as  I  succeed  in  any  one  business 
deal  I'm  going  to  marry  you,  and  I  don't  care  whether 
the  commodity  I  handle  is  electricity  or  potatoes." 

"But  Frank  L.  Sharpe!"  she  exclaimed,  with 
shocked  remembrance  of  certain  whispered  stories  she 
had  heard. 

"Really,  I  don't  see  where  he  enters  into  it,"  per- 
sisted Bobby.  "The  Brightlight  Electric  Company 
is  a  stock  corporation,  in  which  Mr.  Sharpe  happens 
to  own  some  shares ;  that  is  all." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  can't  seem  to  like  it,"  she  told  him,  and  rose 
to  go. 

The  door  opened,  and  Johnson,  with  much  solem- 
nity, though  in  his  eyes  there  lurked  a  twinkle, 
brought  in  a  card  which,  with  much  stiff  ceremony, 
he  handed  to  Bobby. 

"Professor  Henry  H.  Bates,"  read  Bobby  in  some 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         151 

perplexity,  then  suddenly  his  brow  cleared  and  he 
laughed  uproariously.  "Come  right  in,  Biff,"  he 
called. 

In  response  to  this  invitation  there  entered  upon 
Agnes'  vision  a  short,  chunky,  broad-shouldered 
young  man  in  a  checked  green  suit  and  red  tie,  who, 
finding  himself  suddenly  confronted  by  a  dazzlingly 
beautiful  young  lady,  froze  instantly  into  speechless 
awkwardness. 

"This  is  my  friend  and  partner,  Mr.  Biff — Mr. 
Henry  H.  Bates — Miss  Elliston,"  introduced  Bobby, 
smiling. 

Agnes  held  out  her  hand,  which  suddenly  seemed  to 
dwindle  in  size  as  it  was  clasped  by  the  huge  palm  of 
Mr.  Bates. 

"I  have  heard  so  much  of  you  from  Mr.  Burnit,  and 
always  nice  things,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him  so 
frankly  that  Mr.  Bates,  though  his  face  flushed  red, 
instantly  thawed. 

"Bobby's  right  there  with  the  boost,"  commented 
Mr.  Bates,  and  then,  not  being  quite  satisfied  with! 
that  form  of  speech,  he  huskily  corrected  it  to: 
"Burnit's  always  handing  out  those  pleasant  words." 
This  form  of  expression  seeming  also  to  be  somewhat 
lacking  in  polish,  he  relapsed  into  more  redness,  and 
wiped  the  strangely  moist  palms  of  his  hands  upon  the 
sides  of  his  coat. 


152    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"He  doesn't  talk  about  any  but  pleasant  people," 
Agnes  assured  him. 

After  she  had  gone  Mr.  Bates  looked  dazedly  at 
the  door  through  which  she  had  passed  out,  then 
turned  to  Bobby. 

"Carries  a  full  line  of  that  conversation,"  he  com- 
mented, "but  I  like  to  fall  for  it.  And  say !  I'll  bet 
she's  game  all  right;  the  kind  that  would  stick  to  a 
guy  when  he  was  broke,  in  jail  and  had  the  smallpox. 
That's  your  steady,  ain't  it,  Bobby?" 

Coming  from  any  one  else  this  query  might  have 
seemed  a  trifle  blunt,  but  Bobby  understood  precisely 
how  Mr.  Bates  meant  it,  and  was  gratified. 

"She's  the  real  girl,"  he  admitted. 

"I'm  for  her,"  stoutly  asserted  Mr.  Bates,  as  he 
extracted  a  huge  wad  of  crumpled  bills  from  his 
trousers  pocket.  "Any  old  time  she  wants  anybody 
strangled  or  stabbed  and  you  ain't  handy,  she  can 
call  on  your  friend  Biff.  Here's  your  split  of  last 
month's  pickings  at  the  gym.  One  hundred  and 
eighty-one  large,  juicy  simoleons;  count  'em,  one 
hundred  and  eighty-one!"  And  he  threw  the  money 
on  the  desk. 

''Everything  paid?"  asked  Bobby. 

"Here's  the  receipts,"  and  from  inside  his  vest  Mr. 
Bates  produced  them.  "Ground  rent,  light,  heat,  pay- 
roll, advertising,  my  own  little  old  weekly  envelope 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         153 

and  everything ;  and  I  got  one-eighty-one  in  my  other 
kick  for  my  share." 

"Very  well,"  said  Bobby ;  "you  just  put  this  money 
of  mine  into  a  fund  to  buy  further  equipments  when 
we  need  them." 

"Nit  and  nix;  also  no!"  declared  Mr.  Bates  em- 
phatically. "This  time  the  bet  goes  as  she  lays.  You 
take  a  real  money  drag-down  from  now  on." 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  called  Bobby  through  the  open 
door,  "please  take  charge  of  this  one  hundred  and 
eighty-one  Collars,  and  open  a  separate  account  for 
my  investment  in  the  Bates  Athletic  Hall.  It  might 
be,  Biff,"  he  continued,  turning  to  Mr.  Bates,  "that 
yours  would  turn  out  to  be  the  only  safe  business  ven- 
ture I  ever  made." 

"It  ain't  no  millionaire  stunt,  but  it  sure  does  pay 
a  steady  diwy,"  Mr.  Bates  assured  him.  "I  see  a 
man  outside  scraping  the  real-estate  sign  off  the 
door.  Is  he  going  to  paint  a  new  one  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Bobby,  frowning.  "I  sfrall, 
of  course,  get  into  something  very  shortly,  but  I've 
not  settled  on  anything  as  yet.  The  best  thing  that 
has  turned  up  so  far  is  an  interest  in  the  Brightlight 
Electric  Company  offered  me  to-day  by  Frank  L. 
Sharpe." 

"What!"  shrieked  Biff  in  a  high  falsetto,  and 
slapped  himself  smartly  on  the  wrist.  "Has  he  been 


154    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

here?  I  thought  it  seemed  kind  of  close.  Give  me  a 
cigarette  till  I  fumigate." 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  Brightlight  Electric 
Company?"  demanded  Bobby. 

"Nothing.  It's  a  cinch  so  far  as  I  know.  But 
Sharpe !  Why,  say,  Bobby,  all  the  words  I'd  want  to 
'use  to  tell  you  about  him  have  been  left  out  of  the  dic- 
tionary so  they  could  send  it  through  the  mails." 

Bobby  frowned.  The  certain  method  to  have  him 
make  allowances  for  a  man  was  to  attack  that  man. 
When  he  arrived  at  the  Idlers'  Club  at  noon,  how- 
ever, he  was  given  another  opportunity  for  Christian 
charity.  Nick  Allstyne  and  Payne  Winthrop  and 
Stanley  Rogers  were  discussing  something  with  great 
indignation  when  he  joined  them,  and  Nick  drew  him 
over  to  the  bulletin  board,  where  was  displayed  the 
application  of  Frank  L.  Sharpe,  proposed  by  Clar- 
ence Smythe,  Silas  Trimmer's  son-in-law,  and  sec- 
onded by  another  undesirable  who  had  twice  been 
posted  for  non-payment  of  dues. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  about  this  that  commends 
itself  to  me,  and  that  is  the  immaculate  and  colossal 
nerve  of  the  proceeding,"  declared  Nick  indignantly. 
"The  next  thing  you  know  somebody  will  propose 
Sam  Stone." 

At  this  they  all  laughed.  The  Idlers'  Club  was 
the  one  institution  that  stood  in  no  awe  of  the  notori- 


A   FLAWLESS    INVESTMENT         155 

ous  "boss"  of  the  city  and  of  the  state;  a  man  who 
had  never  held  an  office,  but  who,  until  the  past  two 
years,  had  controlled  all  offices ;  whose  methods  were 
openly  dishonest;  who  held  underground  control  of, 
every  public  utility  and  a  score  of  private  enter- 
prises. The  idea  of  Stone  as  an  applicant  for  mem- 
bership in  the  Idlers'  Club  was  a  good  joke,  but  the 
actual  application  of  Sharpe  was  too  serious  for 
jesting.  Nevertheless,  all  this  turmoil  over  the  mere 
name  of  the  man  worked  a  strange  reaction  in  Bobby 
Burnit. 

"After  all,  business  is  business,"  he  declared  to  him- 
self, "and  I  don't  see  where  Sharpe's  personality 
figures  in  this  Brightlight  Electric  deal,  especially 
since  I  am  to  have  control." 

Accordingly  he  directed  Chalmers  and  Johnson  to 
make  a  thorough  investigation  of  that  corporation. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

BOBBY  ENTERS  A  BUSINESS  ALLIANCE,  A  SOCIAL  ENTAN- 
GLEMENT  AND   A    QUARREL   WITH   AGNES 

THE  report  of  Mr.  Johnson  and  Mr.  Chalmers 
upon  the  Brightlight  Electric  Company  was 
a  complicated  affair,  but,  upon  the  whole, 
highly  favorable.  It  was  an  old  establishment,  the 
first  electric  company  that  had  been  formed  in  the 
city,  and  it  held,  besides  some  minor  concessions,  an 
ancient  franchise  for  the  exclusive  supply  of  twelve 
of  the  richest  down-town  blocks,  this  franchise,  made 
by  a  generous  board  of  city  fathers,  still  having 
twenty  years  to  run.  The  concern's  equipment  was 
old  and  much  of  it  needed  renewal,  but  its  financial 
affairs  were  in  good  shape,  except  for  a  mortgage  of 
a  hundred  thousand  dollars  held  by  one  J.  W. 
Williams. 

"About  this  mortgage,"  Mr.  Chalmers  advised  Mr. 
Burnit ;  "its  time  limit  expires  within  two  months,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  that  is  why  Sharpe  wants  to  put  addi- 
tional capital  into  the  concern.     Moreover,  Williams 
156 


A   QUARREL   WITH   AGNES          157 

is  notoriously  reputed  a  lieutenant  of  Sam  Stone's, 
and  it  is  quite  probable  that  Stone  is  the  real  holder 
of  the  mortgage." 

"I  don't  see  where  it  makes  much  difference,  so 
long  as  the  mortgage  has  to  be  paid,  whether  it  is 
paid  to  Stone  or  to  somebody  else,"  said  Bobby 
reflectively. 

"I  don't  see  any  difference  myself,"  agreed  Chal- 
mers, "except  that  I  am  suspicious  of  that  whole 
crowd,  since  Sharpe  is  only  a  figurehead  for  Stone. 
I  find  that  Sharpe  is  credited  with  holding  two  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars'  worth  of  the  present  stock. 
The  majority  of  the  Consumers  Company  and  a  good 
share  of  the  United  are  also  in  his  name.  Just  how 
all  these  facts  have  a  bearing  upon  each  other  I 
can  not  at  present  state,  but  in  view  of  the  twenty 
years'  franchise,  and  of  the  fact  that  you  will  hold 
undisputed  control,  I  do  not  see  but  that  you  have  a 
splendid  investment  here.  The  contract  for  the  city 
lighting  of  those  twelve  blocks  is  ironclad,  and  the 
franchise  for  exclusive  private  lighting  and  power 
is  exclusive  so  long  as  'reasonably  satisfactory  serv- 
ice' is  maintained.  As  this  has  been  undisputed  for 
thirty  years  I  don't  think  you  need  have  much  fear 
upon  that  score,"  and  Chalmers  smiled. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  same  day  Sharpe  called 
up. 


158    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"What  dinner  engagement  have  you  for  to-night?" 
he  inquired. 

"None,"  replied  Bobby,  after  a  moment  of  hesita- 
tion. 

"Then  I  want  you  to  dine  with  me  at  the  Spender. 
Can  you  make  it?" 

"I  guess  so,"  replied  Bobby  reluctantly,  after  an- 
other hesitant  pause.  "What  time,  say?" 

"About  seven.  Just  inquire  at  the  desk.  I'll  have 
a  dining-room  reserved." 

Bobby  was  very  thoughtful  as  he  arrayed  himself 
for  dinner,  and  he  was  still  more  thoughtful  when,  a 
boy  ushering  him  into  the  cozy  little  private  dining- 
room,  he  found  the  over-dazzling  young  Mrs.  Sharpe 
with  her  husband.  She  greeted  the  handsome  young 
Mr.  Burnit  most  effusively,  clasping  his  hand  warmly 
and  rolling  up  her  large  eyes  at  him  while  Mr.  Sharpe 
looked  on  with  smiling  approval.  Bobby  experienced 
that  strange  conflict  which  most  men  have  known,  a 
feeling  of  revulsion  at  war  with  the  undoubted  lure 
of  the  women.  She  was  one  of  those  who  deliberately 
make  appeal  through  their  feminity  alone. 

"Such  a  pleasure  to  meet  you,"  she  said  in  the  most 
silvery  of  voices.  "I  have  heard  so  much  of  Mr. 
Burnit  and  his  polo  skill." 

"It's  the  best  trick  I  do,"  confessed  Bobby,  laugh- 
ing. 


A   QUARREL   WITH   AGNES          159 

"That's  because  Mr.  Burnit  hasn't  found  his  proper 
forte  as  yet,"  interposed  Sharpe.  "He  was  really  cut 
out  for  the  illuminating  business."  And  he  led  the 
way  to  the  table,  upon  which  Bobby  had  already  noted 
that  five  places  were  laid. 

"A  couple  of  our  friends  might  drop  in,"  said  the 
host  in  explanation ;  "they  usually  do." 

"If  it's  Sam  and  Billy  we're  not  going  to  wait  for 
them,"  said  Mrs.  Sharpe  with  a  languishing  glance 
at  Bobby.  "They're  always  ages  and  ages  late,  if 
they  come  at  all.  Frank,  where  are  those  cocktails? 
I'm  running  down." 

She  took  the  drink  with  an  avidity  Bobby  was  not 
used  to  seeing  among  his  own  women  friends,  and 
almost  immediately  it  heightened  her  vivacity.  There 
could  be  no  question  that  she  was  a  fascinating  woman. 
Again  Bobby  had  that  strange  sense  of  revulsion,  and 
again  he  was  conscious  that,  in  spite  of  her  trace  of 
a  tendency  to  indecorum,  there  was  a  subtle  appeal 
in  her ;  one,  however,  that  he  shrank  from  analyzing. 
Her  talk  was  mostly  of  the  places  she  had  been,  with 
almost  pathetic  little  mention  now  and  then  of  unat- 
tainable people.  Evidently  she  craved  social  position, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was  for  ever  shut  out 
from  it. 

While  they  were  upon  the  fish  the  door  opened  and 
two  men  came  in.  With  a  momentary  frown  Bobby 


160    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

recognized  both;  one  of  them  the  great  Sam  Stone, 
and  the  other  William  Garland,  a  rich  young  cigar 
manufacturer,  quite  prominent  in  public  affairs.  The 
latter  he  had  met ;  the  former  he  inspected  quite  curi- 
ously as  he  acknowledged  the  introduction. 

Stone  gave  one  the  idea  that  he  was  extremely 
heavy ;  not  that  he  was  so  grossly  stbut,  although  he 
was  large,  but  he  seemed  to  convey  an  impression 
of  tremendous  weight.  His  features  and  his  expres- 
sion were  heavy,  his  eyes  were  heavy-lidded,  and  he 
was  taciturnity  itself.  He  gave  Bobby  a  quick  scru- 
tiny from  head  to  foot,  and  in  that  instant  had 
weighed  him,  measured  him,  catalogued  and  indexed 
him  for  future  reference  for  ever.  Stone's  only  spoken 
word  had  been  a  hoarse  acknowledgment  of  his  intro- 
duction, and  as  soon  as  the  entree  came  on  he  attacked 
it  with  a  voracious  appetite,  which,  however,  did  not 
prevent  him  from  weighing  and  absorbing  in  silence 
every  word  that  was  spoken  in  his  hearing.  Bobby 
found  himself  wondering  how  this  unattractive  man 
could  have  secured  his  tremendous  following,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  Stone  "never  broke  a  promise  and 
never  went  back  on  a  friend,"  qualities  which  would 
go  far  toward  establishing  any  man  in  the  esteem  of 
mankind. 

It  was  not  until  the  appearance  of  the  salad  that 
any  allusion  was  made  to  business,  and  then  Garland, 


A    QUARREL    WITH    AGNES          161 

upon  an  impatient  signal  from  Stone,  turned  to  Bobby 
with  the  suavity  of  which  he  was  thorough  master. 

"Mr.  Sharpe  tells  me  that  you  consider  taking  a 
dip  into  the  public  utilities  line,"  he  suggested. 

Instantly  three  of  them  bent  an  attention  upon 
Bobby  so  straight  that  it  might  have  been  palpable 
even  to  him,  had  not  Stone  suddenly  lighted  a  match 
to  attract  their  attention,  and  glared  at  them. 

"I  have  already  decided,"  said  Bobby  frankly,  see- 
ing no  reason  for  fencing.  "My  legal  and  business 
advisers  tell  me  that  it  would  be  a  good  investment, 
and  I  am  ready  to  take  hold  of  the  Brightlight  Elec- 
tric as  soon  as  the  formalities  can  be  arranged." 

Stone  grunted  his  approval,  and  immediately  rose, 
looking  at  his  watch. 

"Pleased  to  have  met  you,  Mr.  Burnit,"  he  rumbled 
hoarsely,  and  took  his  coat  and  hat.  "Sorry  I  can't 
stay.  Promised  to  meet  a  man." 

"Coming  back?"  asked  Garland. 

"Might,"  responded  the  other,  and  was  gone. 

As  soon  as  Stone  had  left,  the  trifle  of  strain  that 
had  been  apparent  prior  to  Bobby's  very  decided 
statement  that  he  would  go  into  the  business,  was 
lifted ;  and  Mrs.  Sharpe,  pink  of  cheek  and  sparkling 
of  eye  and  exhilarated  by  the  wine  to  her  utmost  of 
purely  physical  attractiveness,  moved  when  the  coffee 
was  served  to  a  chair  between  Bobby  and  Garland, 


162    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

and,  gifted  with  a  purring  charm,  exerted  herself  to 
the  utmost  to  please  the  new-comer.  She  puzzled 
Bobby.  The  woman  was  an  entirely  new  type  to  him, 
/and  he  could  not  fathom  her. 

With  the  clearing  of  the  table  more  champagne 
was  brought,  and  Bobby  began  to  have  an  uneasy 
dread  of  a  "near-orgie,"  such  as  was  associated  in 
the  minds  of  the  knowing  ones  with  this  crowd. 
Sharpe,  however,  quickly  removed  this  fear,  for, 
pushing  aside  his  own  glass  with  a  bare  sip  after  it 
had  been  filled,  he  drew  forth  a  pencil  and  produced 
some  papers  which  he  spread  before  Bobby. 

"I  imagined  that  you  would  have  a  very  favorable 
report  on  the  Brightlight  Electric,"  he  said  with  a 
smile,  "so  I  took  the  liberty  of  bringing  along  an 
outline  of  my  plan  for  reorganization.  If  Mr.  Gar- 
land and  Mrs.  Sharpe  will  excuse  us  for  talking  shop 
we  might  glance  over  them  together." 

"You're  selfish,"  pouted  Mrs.  Sharpe  quite  prettily, 
but,  nevertheless,  she  turned  her  exclusive  attention 
to  Garland  for  the  time  being. 

With  considerable  interest  Bobby  plunged  into 
the  business  at  hand.  Here  was  a  well-established 
concern  that  had  been  doing  business  for  three  de- 
cades, which  had  been  paying  ten  per  cent,  dividends 
for  years,  and  which  would  doubtless  continue  to  do 
so  for  many  years  to  come.  An  opportunity  to  ob- 


A    QUARREL    WITH    AGNES          163 

tain  control  of  it  solved  his  problem  of  investment  at 
once,  and  he  strove  to  approach  its  intricacies  with 
intelligence.  He  became  vaguely  aware,  by  and  by, 
that  just  behind  him  Garland  and  Mrs.  Sharpe  were 
carrying  on  a  most  animated  conversation  in  an  un- 
dertone interspersed  with  much  laughter,  and  once, 
with  a  start  of  annoyance,  he  overheard  Garland  tell- 
ing a  slightly  risque  story,  at  which  Mrs.  Sharpe 
laughed  softly  and  with  evident  relish.  He  glanced 
around  involuntarily.  Garland  had  his  arm  across 
the  back  of  her  chair,  and  they  were  leaning  toward 
each  other  in  a  close  proximity  which  Bobby  reflected 
with  sudden  savageness  could  not  possibly  occur  if 
that  were  his  wife ;  nor  was  he  much  softened  by  the 
later  reflection  that,  in  the  first  place,  a  woman  of 
her  type  never  could  have  been  his  wife,  and  that,  in 
the  second  place,  it  was  not  the  man  who  was  to  blame, 
nor  the  woman  so  much,  as  Sharpe  himself.  Indeed, 
Bobby  somehow  gained  the  impression  that  the  others 
flouted  and  despised  Sharpe  and  held  him  as  a  weak- 
ling. 

His  glance  was  but  a  fleeting  one,  and  he  turned 
from  them  with  a  look  which  Sharpe,  noting,  misin- 
terpreted. 

"I  had  hoped,"  he  said,  "to  go  into  this  thing  very 
thoroughly,  so  that  we  could  begin  the  reorganiza- 
tion at  once,  with  the  preliminaries  completely  under- 


164    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

stood ;  but  if  we  are  detaining  you  from  any  engage- 
ment, Mr.  Burnit — " 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  the  highly-interested  Bobby 
hastened  to  assure  him.  "I  have  no  engagements 
whatever  to-night,  and  my  time  is  entirely  at  your 
disposal." 

i  "Then  let's  drop  down  to  the  theater,"  suddenly 
interposed  Mrs.  Sharpe.  "You  can  talk  your  dust- 
dry  business  there  just  as  well  as  here.  Billy,  tele- 
phone down  to  the  Orpheum  and  see  if  they  have  a 
box." 

Bobby  was  far  too  unsuspecting  to  understand  that 
he  had  been  deliberately  trapped.  Though  not  of 
the  ultra-exclusives,  his  social  position  was  an  excel- 
lent one  and  he  had  the  entree  everywhere.  To  be 
seen  publicly  with  young  Burnit  was  a  step  upward, 
as  Mrs.  Sharpe  saw  it,  in  that  forbidding  and  pain- 
ful social  climb. 

Bobby  started  with  dismay  when  Garland  stepped 
to  the  telephone,  but  he  was  fairly  caught,  and  he 
realized  it  in  time  to  check  the  involuntary  protest 
that  rose  to  his  lips.  He  had  acknowledged  that  his 
time  was  free  and  at  their  disposal,  and  he  regretted 
deeply  that  no  good,  handy  lie  came  to  his  rescue. 

They  arrived  at  the  theater  between  acts,  and  with 
the  full  blaze  of  the  auditorium  upon  them.  Bobby's 
comfort  was  not  at  all  heightened  when  Stone  almost 


A   QUARREL    WITH    AGNES          165 

immediately  followed  them  in.  He  had  firmly  made 
up  his  mind  as  they  entered  to  obtain  a  place  in  the 
rear  corner  of  the  box,  where  he  could  not  be  seen; 
but  he  was  not  prepared  for  the  generalship  of  Mrs. 
Sharpe,  who  so  maneuvered  it  as  to  force  him  to  the 
very  edge,  between  herself  and  Garland,  and,  as  she 
turned  to  him  with  a  laughing  remark  which,  in  pan- 
tomime, had  all  the  confidential  understanding  of 
most  cordial  and  intimate  acquaintanceship,  Bobby 
glanced  apprehensively  across  at  the  other  side  of  the 
proscenium-arch.  There,  in  the  opposite  box,  star- 
ing at  him  in  shocked  amazement,  sat  Agnes  Ellis- 
ton! 

"But  Agnes,"  protested  Bobby  at  the  Elliston 
home  next  day,  "I  could  not  possibly  help  it." 

"No?"  she  inquired  incredulously.  "I  don't  im- 
agine that  any  one  strongly  advised  you  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  Mr.  Sharpe — and  it  was  through 
him  that  you  met  her.  Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well 
that  it  happened,  however,  because  it  has  shown  you 
just  how  you  were  about  to  become  involved." 

Bobby  swallowed  quite  painfully.  His  tongue  was 
a  little  dry. 

"Well,  the  fact  of  the  matter  is,"  he  admitted,  red- 
dening and  stammering,  "that  I  have  already  'become 
involved,'  if  that's  the  way  you  choose  to  put  it;  for 
— for — I  signed  an  agreement  with  Sharpe,  and  an 


166    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

application  for  increase  of  capitalization,  this  morn- 
ing." 

"You  don't  mean  it!"  she  gasped.  "How  could 
you?" 

"Why  not?"  he  demanded.  "Agnes,  it  seems  quite 
impossible  for  you  to  divorce  business  and  social 
affairs.  I  tell  you  they  have  absolutely  nothing  to 
do  with  each  other.  The  opportunity  Sharpe  offered 
me  is  a  splendid  one.  Chalmers  and  Johnson  inves- 
tigated it  thoroughly,  and  both  advise  me  that  it  is 
quite  an  unusually  good  chance." 

"You  didn't  seem  to  be  able  to  divorce  business  and 
social  affairs  last  night,"  she  reminded  him  rather 
sharply,  returning  to  the  main  point  at  issue  and 
ignoring  all  else. 

There  was  the  rub.  She  could  not  get  out  of  her 
mind  the  picture  of  Mrs.  Sharpe  chatting  gaily  with 
him,  smiling  up  at  him  and  all  but  fawning  upon 
him,  in  full  view  of  any  number  of  people  who  knew 
both  Agnes  and  Bobby. 

"You  have  made  a  deliberate  choice  of  your  com- 
panions, Mr.  Burnit,  after  being  warned  against 
them  from  more  than  one  source,"  she  told  him,  aflame 
with  indignant  jealousy,  but  speaking  with  the  rigid- 
ity common  in  such  quarrels,  "and  you  may  abide  by 
your  choice." 

"Agnes !"  he  protested.    "You  don't  mean—" 


A    QUARREL    WITH    AGNES          167 

"I  mean  just  this,"  she  interrupted  him  coldly, 
"that  I  certainly  can  not  afford  to  be  seen  in  public, 
and  don't  particularly  care  to  entertain  in  private, 
any  one  who  permits  himself  to  be  seen  in  public  with, 
or  entertained  in  private  by,  the  notorious  Mrs.  Frank 
L.  Sharpe." 

They  were  both  of  them  pale,  both  trembling,  both 
stiffened  by  hurt  and  rebellious  pride.  Bobby  gazed 
at  her  a  moment  in  a  panic,  and  saw  no  relenting  in 
her  eyes,  in  her  pose,  in  her  compressed  lips.  She  was 
still  thinking  of  the  way  Mrs.  Sharpe  had  looked  at 
him. 

"Very  well,  said  he,  quite  calmly;  "since  our  ar- 
rangements for  this  evening  are  off,  I  presume  I  may 
as  well  accept  that  invitation  to  dine  at  Sharpe's," 
and  with  this  petty  threat  he  left  the  house. 

At  the  Idlers'  he  was  met  by  a  succession  of  grins 
that  were  more  aggravating  because  for  the  most  part 
they  were  but  scantily  explained.  Nick  Allstyne,  in- 
deed, did  take  him  into  a  corner,  with  a  vast  show  of 
secrecy,  requested  him  to  have  an  ordinance  passed, 
through  his  new  and  influential  friends,  turning  Bed- 
low  Park  into  a  polo  ground;  while  Payne  Winthrop 
added  insult  to  injury  by  shaking  hands  with  him  and 
most  gravely  congratulating  him — but  upon  what  he 
would  not  say.  Bobby  was  half  grinning  and  yet 
half  angry  when  he  left  the  club  and  went  over  for 


168    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

his  usual  half  hour  at  the  gymnasium.  Professor 
Henry  H.  Bates  was  also  grinning. 

"See  you're  butting  in  with  the  swell  mob,"  ob- 
served Mr.  Bates  cheerfully.  "Getting  your  name  in 
the  paper,  ain't  you,  along  with  the  fake  heavy- 
weights and  the  divorces?"  and  before  Bobby's  eyes 
he  thrust  a  copy  of  the  yellowest  of  the  morning 
papers,  wherein  it  was  set  forth  that  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Frank  L.  Sharpe  had  entertained  a  notable  box  party 
at  the  Orpheum,  the  night  before,  consisting  of 
Samuel  Stone,  William  Garland  and  Robert  Burnit, 
the  latter  of  whom,  it  was  rumored,  was  soon  to  be 
identified  with  the  larger  financial  affairs  of  the  city, 
having  already  contracted  to  purchase  a  controlling 
interest  in  the  Brightlight  Electric  Company.  The 
paper  had  more  to  say  about  the  significance  of 
Bobby's  appearance  in  this  company,  as  indicating 
the  new  political  move  which  sought  to  ally  the 
younger  business  element  with  the  progressive  party 
that  had  been  so  long  in  safe,  sane  and  conservative 
control  of  municipal  affairs,  except  for  the  temporary 
setback  of  the  recent  so-called  "citizens'  movement" 
hysteria.  Bobby  frowned  more  deeply  as  he  read  on, 
and  Mr.  Bates  grinned  more  and  more  cheerfully. 

"Here's  where  it  happens,"  he  observed.  "On  the 
level,  Bobby,  did  they  hook  you  up  on  this  electric 
deal?" 


A   QUARREL   WITH   AGNES          169 

"What's  the  matter  with  it?"  demanded  Bobby. 
"After  thorough  investigation  by  my  own  lawyer  and 
my  own  bookkeeper,  the  Brightlight  proves  to  have 
been  a  profitable  enterprise  for  a  great  many  years, 
and  is  in  as  good  condition  now  as  it  ever  was.  Why 
shouldn't  I  go  into  it?" 

Biff  winked, 

"Because  it's  no  fun  being  the  goat,"  he  replied. 
"Say,  tell  me,  did  you  ever  earn  a  pull  with  this 
bunch?" 

"No." 

"Well,  then,  why  should  they  hand  you  anything 
but  the  buzzer?  If  this  is  a  good  stunt  don't  you 
suppose  they'd  keep  it  at  home?  Don't  you  suppose 
that  Stone  could  go  out  and  get  half  the  money  in 
this  town,  if  he  wanted  it,  to  put  behind  a  deal  that 
was  worth  ten  per  cent,  a  year  and  pickings?  I  don't 
care  what  your  lawyer  or  what  Johnson  says  about  it, 
I  know  the  men.  This  boy  Garland  is  a  good  sport, 
all  right,  but  he's  for  the  easy-money  crowd  every 
time — and  they're  going  to  make  the  next  mayor  out 
of  him.  Our  local  Hicks  would  rather  be  robbed  by 
a  lot  of  friendly  stick-up  artists  than  have  their 
money  wasted  by  a  lot  of  wooden-heads,  and  after 
this  election  the  old  Stone  gang  will  have  their  feet 
right  back  in  the  trough ;  yes !  This  is  the  way  I 
figure  the  dope.  They've  framed  it  up  to  dump  the 


170    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Brightlight  Electric,  and  you're  the  fall  guy.  So 
wear  pads  in  your  derby,  because  the  first  thing  you 
know  the  hammer's  going  to  drop  on  your  coco." 

"How  do  you  find  out  so  much,  Biff?"  returned 
Bobby,  smiling. 

"By  sleeping  seven  hours  a  day  in  place  of  twenty- 
four.  If  some  of  the  marks  I  know  would  only  cough 
up  for  a  good,  reliable  alarm  clock  they'd  be  better 
off." 

"Meaning  me,  of  course,"  said  Bobby.  "For  that 
I'll  have  to  manhandle  you  a  little.  Where's  your 
gloves  ?" 

For  fifteen  minutes  they  punched  away  at  each 
other  with  soft  gloves  as  determinedly  and  as  ener- 
getically as  if  they  were  deadly  enemies,  and  then 
Bobby  went  back  up  to  his  own  office.  He  found  Ap- 
plerod  jubilant  and  Johnson  glum.  Already  Apple- 
rod  heard  himself  saying  to  his  old  neighbors :  "As 
Frank  L.  Sharpe  said  to  me  this  morning — ,"  or: 
"I  told  Sharpe — ,"  or:  "Say!  Sam  Stone  stopped 
at  my  desk  yesterday — ,"  and  already  he  began  to 
shine  by  this  reflected  glory. 

"I  hear  that  you  have  decided  to  go  into  the  Bright- 
light  Electric,"  he  observed. 

"Signed  all  the  papers  this  morning,"  admitted 
Bobby. 

"Allow  me  to  congratulate  you,  sir,"  said  Apple- 


A    QUARREL    WITH    AGNES          171 

rod,  but  Johnson  silently  produced  from  an  index 
case  a  plain,  gray  envelope,  which  he  handed  to  Bobby. 
It  was  inscribed : 

To  My  Son  Upon  His  Putting  Good  Money  Into  any 
Public  Service  Corporation 

and  it  read : 

"When  the  manipulators  of  public  service  corpora- 
tions tire  of  skinning  the  dear  public  in  bulk,  they 
skin  individual  specimens  just  to  keep  in  practice.  If 
you  have  been  fool  enough  to  get  into  the  crowd  that 
invokes  the  aid  of  dirty  politics  to  help  it  hang  people 
on  street-car  straps,  just  write  them  out  a  check  for 
whatever  money  you  have  left,  and  tell  your  trustee 
you  are  broke  again;  because  you  are  not  and  never 
can  be  of  their  stripe,  and  if  you  are  not  of  their 
stripe  they  will  pick  your  bones.  Turn  a  canary 
loose  in  a  colony  of  street  sparrows  and  watch  what 
happens  to  it." 

Bobby  folded  up  the  letter  grimly  and  went  into 
his  private  room,  where  he  thought  long  and  soberly. 
That  evening  he  went  out  to  Sharpe's  to  dinner.  As 
he  was  about  to  ring  the  bell,  he  stopped,  confronted 
by  a  most  unusual  spectacle.  Through  the  long  plate- 
glass  of  the  door  he  could  see  clearly  back  through 
the  hall  into  the  library,  and  there  stood  Mrs.  Sharpe 
and  William  Garland  in  a  tableau  "that  would  have 


172    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

given  Plato  the  pip,"  as  Biff  Bates  might  have  ex- 
pressed it  had  he  known  about  Plato.  At  that  mo- 
ment Sharpe  came  silently  down  the  stairs  and  turned, 
unobserved,  toward  the  library.  Seeing  that  his  wife 
and  Garland  were  so  pleasantly  engaged,  he  very  con- 
siderately turned  into  the  drawing-room  instead,  and 
as  he  entered  the  drawing-room  he  lit  a  cigarette! 
Bobby,  vowing  angrily  that  there  could  never  be  room 
in  the  Brightlight  for  both  Sharpe  and  himself,  did 
not  ring  the  bell.  Instead,  he  dropped  in  at  the  first 
public  telephone  and  'phoned  his  regrets. 

"By  the  way,"  he  added,  "how  soon  will  you  need 
me  again?" 

"Not  before  a  week,  at  least,"  Sharpe  replied. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Bobby;  "I'll  be  back  a 
week  from  to-day." 

Immediately  upon  his  arrival  down-town  he  tele- 
graphed the  joyous  news  to  Jack  Starlett,  in  Wash- 
ington, to  prepare  for  an  old-fashioned  loafing  bee. 


CHAPTER    XV 

A    STRANGE    CONNECTION    DEVELOPS    BETWEEN    ELEC- 
TEICITY  AND  POLITICS 

CHALMERS,  during  Bobby's  absence,  secured 
all  the  secret  information  that  he  could  con- 
cerning the  Brightlight  Electric,  but  noth- 
ing to  its  detriment  transpired  in  that  investigation, 
and  when  he  returned,  Bobby,  very  sensibly  as  he 
thought,  completed  his  investment.  He  paid  his  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  into  the  coffers  of 
the  company,  and,  at  the  first  stock-holders'  meeting, 
voting  this  stock  and  the  ten  shares  he  had  bought 
from  Sharpe  at  a  hundred  and  seventy-two,  he  elected 
his  own  board  of  directors,  consisting  of  Chalmers, 
Johnson,  Applerod,  Biff  Bates  and  himself,  giving 
one  share  of  stock  to  each  of  the  other  four  gentle- 
men so  that  they  would  be  eligible.  The  remaining 
two  members  whom  he  allowed  to  be  elected  were 
Sharpe  and  J.  W.  Williams,  and  the  board  of  direc- 
tors promptly  elected  Bobby  president  and  treasurer, 
Johnson  secretary  and  Chalmers  vice-president — a  re- 
sult which  gave  Bobby  great  satisfaction.  Once  he 
173 


174    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

had  been  frozen  out  of  a  stock  company ;  this  time  he 
had  absolute  control,  and  he  found  great  pleasure  in 
exercising  it,  though  against  Chalmers'  protest.  With 
swelling  triumph  he  voted  to  himself,  through  his 
"dummy"  directors,  the  salary  of  the  former  presi- 
dent— twelve  thousand  dollars  a  year — though  he 
wondered  a  trifle  that  President  Eastman  submitted 
to  his  retirement  with  such  equanimity,  and  after  he 
walked  away  from  that  meeting  he  considered  his 
business  career  as  accomplished.  He  was  settled  for 
life  if  he  wished  to  remain  in  the  business,  the  salary 
added  to  the  dividends  on  two  hundred  and  sixty  thou- 
sand dollars  worth  of  stock  bringing  his  own  indi- 
vidual income  up  to  a  quite  respectable  figure.  If 
there  were  no  further  revenue  to  be  derived  from  the 
estate  of  John  Burnit,  he  felt  that  he  had  a  very 
fair  prospect  in  life,  indeed,  and  could,  no  doubt,  make 
his  way  very  nicely. 

He  had  been  unfortunate  enough  to  find  Agnes 
Elliston  "not  at  home"  upon  the  two  occasions  when 
he  had  called  since  their  disagreement  upon  the  sub- 
ject of  the  Sharpes,  but  now  he  called  her  up  by  tele- 
phone precisely  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  ex- 
plained to  her  how  good  his  prospects  were;  good 
enough,  in  fact,  he  added,  that  he  could  look  matri- 
mony very  squarely  in  the  eye. 

"Allow    me    to    congratulate    you,"    said    Agnes 


ELECTRICITY    AND    POLITICS       175 

sweetly.  "I  presume  I'll  read  presently  about  the 
divorce  that  precedes  your  marriage,"  and  she  hung 
up  the  receiver;  all  of  which,  had  Bobby  but  paused 
to  reflect  upon  it,  was  a  very  fair  indication  that  all 
he  had  to  do  was  to  jump  in  his  automobile  and  call 
on  Aunt  Constance  Elliston,  force  his  way  upon  the 
attention  of  Agnes  and  browbeat  that  young  lady 
into  an  immediate  marriage.  He  chose,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  take  the  matter  more  gloomily,  and  Johnson, 
after  worrying  about  him  for  three  dismal  days,  con- 
sulted Biff  Bates.  But  Biff,  when  the  problem  was 
propounded  to  him,  only  laughed. 

"His  steady  has  lemoned  him,"  declared  Biff.  "Any 
time  a  guy's  making  plenty  of  money  and  got  good 
health  and  ain't  married,  and  goes  around  with  an  all- 
day  grouch,  you  can  play  it  for  a  one  to  a  hundred 
favorite  that  his  entry's  been  scratched  in  the  solitaire 
diamond  stakes." 

"Uh-huh,"  responded  the  taciturn  Johnson,  and 
stalked  back  with  grim  purpose  to  the  Electric  Com- 
pany's office,  of  which  Bobby  and  Johnson  and  Ap- 
plerod  had  taken  immediate  possession. 

The  next  morning  Johnson  handed  to  Bobby  one  of 
the  familiar  gray  envelopes,  inscribed: 

To  My  Son  Upon  the  Occasion  of  His  Having  a 
Misunderstanding  with  Agnes  Elliston 


176    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

He  submitted  the  envelope  with  many  qualms  and 
misgivings,  though  without  apology,  but  one  glance 
at  Bobby's  face  as  that  young  gentleman  read  the  in- 
scription relieved  him  of  all  responsibility  in  the  mat- 
ter, for  if  ever  a  face  showed  guilt,  that  face  was  the 
face  of  Bobby  Burnit.  In  the  privacy  of  the  presi- 
dent's office  Bobby  read  the  briefest  note  of  the  many 
that  his  forethoughted  father  had  left  behind  him  in 
Johnson's  charge: 

"You're  a  blithering  idiot !" 

That  was  all.  Somehow,  that  brief  note  seemed  to 
lighten  the  gloom,  to  lift  the  weight,  to  remove  some 
sort  of  a  barrier,  and  he  actually  laughed.  Immedi- 
ately he  called  up  the  Ellistons.  He  received  the  in- 
formation from  the  housekeeper  that  Agnes  and  Aunt 
Constance  had  gone  to  New  York  on  an  extended  shop- 
ping trip,  and  thereby  he  lost  his  greatest  and  only 
opportunity  to  prove  that  he  had  at  last  been  suc- 
cessful in  business.  That  day,  all  the  stock  which 
Frank  L.  Sharpe  had  held  began  to  come  in  for  trans- 
fer, in  small  lots  of  from  ten  to  twenty  shares,  and 
inside  a  week  not  a  certificate  stood  in  Sharpe's  name. 
All  the  stock  held  by  Williams  also  came  in  for  trans- 
fer. Bobby  went  immediately  to  see  Sharpe,  and, 
very  much  concerned,  inquired  into  the  meaning  of 


ELECTRICITY   AND    POLITICS       177 

this.  Mr.  Sharpe  was  as  pleasant  as  Christmas  morn- 
ing. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Burnit,"  said  he, 
"there  were  several  very  good  reasons.  In  the  first 
place,  I  needed  the  money;  in  the  second  place,  you 
were  insistent  upon  control  and  abused  it ;  in  the  third 
place,  since  the  increased  capitalization  and  change 
of  management  the  quotations  on  Brightlight  Electric 
dropped  from  one-seventy-two  to  one-sixty-five,  and  I 
got  out  before  it  could  drop  any  lower.  You  will 
give  me  credit  for  selling  the  stock  privately  and  in 
small  lots  where  it  could  not  break  the  price.  How- 
ever, Mr.  Burnit,  I  don't  see  where  the  sale  of  my 
stock  affects  you  in  any  way.  You  have  the  Bright- 
light  Electric  now  in  good  condition,  and  all  it  needs 
to  remain  a  good  investment  is  proper  management." 

"I'm  afraid  it  needs  more  than  that,"  retorted 
Bobby.  "I'm  afraid  it  needs  to  be  in  a  position  to 
make  more  money  for  other  people  than  for  myself;" 
through  which  remark  it  may  be  seen  that,  though 
perhaps  a  trifle  slow,  Bobby  was  learning. 

Another  lesson  awaited  him.  On  the  following 
morning  every  paper  in  the  city  blazed  with  the  dis- 
quieting information  that  the  Consumers'  Electric 
Light  and  Power  Company  and  the  United  Illumi- 
nating and  Fuel  Company  were  to  be  consolidated! 
Out  of  the  two  old  concerns  a  fifty-million-dollar  cor- 


178    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

poration  was  to  be  formed,  and  a  certain  portion  of 
the  stock  was  to  be  sold  in  small  lots,  as  low,  even,  as 
one  share  each,  so  that  the  public  should  be  given  a 
chance  to  participate  in  this  unparalleled  investment. 
Oh,  it  was  to  be  a  tremendous  boon  to  the  city ! 

Bobby,  much  worried,  went  straight  to  Chalmers. 

"So  far  as  I  can  see  you  have  all  the  best  of  the 
bargain,"  Chalmers  reassured  him.  "The  Consumers', 
already  four  times  watered  and  quoted  at  about  sev- 
enty, is  to  be  increased  from  two  to  five  million  be- 
fore the  consolidation,  so  that  it  can  be  taken  in  at 
ten  million.  The  Union,  already  watered  from  one 
to  nine  million  in  its  few  brief  years,  takes  on  an- 
other hydraulic  spurt  and  will  be  bought  for  twenty 
million.  Of  the  thirty  million  dollars  which  is  to  be 
paid  for  the  old  corporation,  nineteen  million  repre- 
sents new  water,  the  most  of  which  will  be  distributed 
among  Stone  and  his  henchmen.  The  other  twenty 
million  will  go  to  the  dear  public,  who  will  probably 
be  given  one  share  of  common  as  a  bonus  with  each 
share  of  preferred,  and  pay  ten  million  sweaty  dol- 
lars for  it.  Do  you  think  this  new  company  expects 
to  pay  dividends?  On  their  plants,  worth  at  a  high 
valuation,  five  million  dollars,  and  their  new  capital 
of  ten  million,  a  profit  must  be  earned  for  fifty  mil- 
lion dollars'  worth  of  stock,  and  it  can  not  be  done. 
Within  a  year  I  expect  to  see  Consolidated  Illuminat- 


ELECTRICITY   AND   POLITICS       179 

ing  and  Power  Company  stock  quoted  at  around 
thirty.  By  that  time,  however,  Stone  and  his  crowd 
will  have  sold  theirs,  and  will  have  cleaned  up  mil- 
lions. Brightlight  Electric  was  probably  too  small 
a  factor  to  be  considered  in  the  consolidation.  Did 
you  pay  off  that  mortgage?  Then  Stone  has  his 
hundred  thousand  dollars;  the  back  salary  list  of 
Stone's  henchmen  has  been  paid  up  with  your  money ; 
Sharpe  and  Williams  have  converted  their  stock  and 
Stone's  into  cash  at  a  fancy  figure ;  Eastman  is  to  be 
taken  care  of  in  the  new  company  and  they  are  satis- 
fied. In  my  estimation  you  are  well  rid  of  the  entire 
crowd,  unless  they  have  some  neat  little  plan  for 
squeezing  you.  But  I'll  tell  you  what  I  would  do.  I 
would  go  direct  to  Stone,  and  see  what  he  has  to 
say." 

Bobby  smiled  ironically  at  himself  as  he  climbed 
the  dingy  stairs  up  which  it  was  said  that  every  man 
of  affairs  in  the  city  must  sooner  or  later  toil  to  bend 
the  knee,  but  he  was  astonished  when  he  walked  into 
the  office  of  Stone  to  find  it  a  narrow,  bare  little  room, 
with  the  door  wide  open  to  the  hall.  There  was  an 
old,  empty  desk  in  it — for  Stone  never  kept  nor  wrote 
letters — and  four  common  kitchen  chairs  for  waiting 
callers.  At  the  desk  near  the  one  window  sat  Stone, 
and  over  him  bent  a  shabby-looking  man,  whispering. 
J3tone;  grunting  occasionally,  looked  out  of  the  win- 


180    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

dow  while  he  listened,  and  when  the  man  was  through 
gave  him  a  ten-dollar  bill. 

"It's  all  right,"  Stone  said  gruffly.  "I'll  be  in  court 
myself  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  and  you 
may  tell  Billy  that  I'll  get  him  out  of  it." 

Another  man,  a  flashily-dressed  fellow,  was  ahead 
of  Bobby,  and  he,  too,  now  leaned  over  Stone  and 
whispered. 

"Nothing  doing,"  rumbled  Stone. 

The  man,  from  his  gestures,  protested  earnestly. 

"Nix !"  declared  Stone  loudly.  "You  threw  me  two 
years  ago  this  fall,  and  you  can't  come  back  till  you're 
on  your  uppers  good  and  proper.  I  don't  want  to  see 
3rou  nor  hear  of  you  for  another  year,  and  you  needn't 
send  any  one  to  me  to  fix  it,  because  it  can't  be  fixed. 
Now  beat  it.  I'm  busy !" 

The  man,  much  crestfallen,  "beat  it."  Bobby  was 
thankful  that  there  was  no  one  else  waiting  when  it 
was  his  turn  to  approach  the  Mogul.  Stone  shook 
hands  cordially  enough. 

"Mr.  Stone,"  inquired  Bobby,  "how  does  it  come 
that  the  Brightlight  Electric  Company  was  not  offered 
a  chance  to  come  into  this  new  consolidation?" 

"How  should  I  know  ?"  asked  Stone  in  reply. 

"It  is  popularly  supposed,"  suggested  Bobby,  smil- 
ing, "that  you  know  a  great  deal  about  it." 

Mr.  Stone  ignored  that  supposition  completely. 


ELECTRICITY    AND    POLITICS       181 

"Mr.  Burnit,  how  much  political  influence  do  you 
think  you  could  swing?" 

"Frankly,  I  never  thought  of  it,"  said  Bobby  sur- 
prised. 

"You  belong  to  the  Idlers'  Club,  you  belong  to  the 
Traders'  Club,  to  the  Fish  and  Game,  the  Brassie, 
the  Gourmet,  and  the  Thespian  Clubs.  You  are  a 
member  of  the  board  of  governors  in  three  of  these 
clubs,  and  are  very  popular  in  all  of  them.  A  man 
like  you,  if  he  would  get  wise,  could  swing  a  strong 
following." 

"Possibly,"  admitted  Bobby  dryly;  "although  I 
wouldn't  enjoy  it." 

"One-third  of  the  members  of  the  Traders'  Club  do 
not  vote,  more  than  half  of  the  members  of  the  Fish 
and  Game  and  the  Brassie  do  not  vote,  none  of  the 
members  of  the  other  clubs  vote  at  all,"  went  on  Mr. 
Stone.  "They  ain't  good  citizens.  If  you're  the  man 
that  can  stir  them  up  the  right  way  you'd  find  it  worth 
while." 

"But  just  now,"  evaded  Bobby,  "whom  did  you  say 
I  should  see  about  this  consolidation  ?" 

"Sharpe,"  snapped  Stone.  "Good  day,  Mr.  Bur- 
nit."  And  Bobby  walked  away  rather  belittled  in  his 
own  estimation. 

He  had  been  offered  an  excellent  chance  to  become 
one  of  Stone's  political  lieutenants,  had  been  given 


182    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

an  opportunity  to  step  up  to  the  pie  counter,  to  enjoy 
the  very  material  benefits  of  the  Stone  style  of  mu- 
nicipal government;  and  in  exchange  for  this  he  had 
only  to  sell  his  fellows.  He  knew  now  that  his  visit 
to  Sharpe  would  be  fruitless,  that  before  he  could  ar- 
rive at  Sharpe's  office  that  puppet  would  have  had  a 
telephone  message  from  Stone;  yet,  his  curiosity 
aroused,  he  saw  the  thing  through.  Mr.  Sharpe, 
upon  his  visit,  met  Bobby  as  coldly  as  the  January 
morning  when  the  Christmas  bills  come  in. 

"We  don't  really  care  for  the  Brightlight  Electric 
in  the  combination  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Sharpe,  "but  if 
you  wish  to  come  in  at  a  valuation  of  five  hundred 
thousand  I  guess  we  can  find  a  place  for  you." 

"Let  me  understand,"  said  Bobby.  "By  a  valua- 
tion of  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  you  mean  that 
the  Brightlight  stock-holders  can  exchange  each  share 
of  their  stock  for  one  share  in  the  Consolidated?" 

"That's  it,  precisely,"  said  Mr.  Sharpe  without  a 
smile. 

"You're  joking,"  objected  Bobby.  "My  stock  in 
the  Brightlight  is  worth  to-day  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  share.  My  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  stock  in  the  Consolidated  would  not 
be  worth  par,  even,  to-day.  Why  do  you  make  this 
discrimination  when  you  are  giving  the  stock-holders 
of  the  Consumers'  an  exchange  of  five  shares  for  one, 


ELECTRICITY   AND    POLITICS       183 

and  the  stock-holders  of  the  United  an  exchange  of 
twenty  shares  for  nine?" 

"We  need  both  those  companies,"  calmly  explained 
Sharpe,  "and  we  don't  need  the  Brightlight." 

"Is  that  figure  the  best  you  will  do?" 

"Under  the  circumstances,  yes." 

"Very  well  then,"  said  Bobby;  "good  day." 

"By  the  way,  Mr.  Burnit,"  Sharpe  said  to  him  with 
a  return  of  the  charming  smile  which  had  been  con- 
spicuously absent  on  this  occasion,  "we  needn't  con- 
sider the  talk  entirely  closed  as  yet.  It  might  be  pos- 
sible that  we  would  be  able,  between  now  and  the  first 
of  the  next  month,  when  the  consolidation  is  to  be 
completed,  to  make  you  a  much  more  liberal  offer  to 
come  in  with  us ;  to  be  one  of  us,  in  fact." 

Bobby  sat  down  again. 

"How  soon  may  I  see  you  about  it?"  he  asked. 

"I'll  let  you  know  when  things  are  shaped  up  right. 
By  the  way,  Mr.  Burnit,  you  are  a  very  young  man 
yet,  and  just  starting  upon  your  career.  Really  you 
ought  to  look  about  you  a  bit  and  study  what  advan- 
tages you  have  in  the  way  of  personal  influence  and 
following." 

"I  have  never  counted  that  I  had  a  'following.'  " 

"I  understand  that  you  have  a  very  strong  one,"  in- 
sisted Sharpe.  "What  you  ought  to  do  is  to  see  Mr. 
Stone." 


184    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"I  have  been  to  see  him,"  replied  Bobby  with  a 
smile. 

"So  I  understand,"  said  Sharpe  dryly.  "By  the 
way,  next  Tuesday  I  am  to  be  voted  upon  in  the 
Idlers'.  You  are  on  the  board  of  governors  up  there, 
I  believe?" 

"Yes,"  said  Bobby  steadily. 

Sharpe  studied  him  for  a  moment. 

"Well,  come  around  and  see  me  about  this  consoli- 
dation on  Wednesday,"  he  suggested,  "and  in  the 
meantime  have  another  talk  with  Stone.  By  all  means, 
go  and  see  Stone." 

"Johnson,"  asked  Bobby,  later,  "what  would  you 
<3o  if  a  man  should  ask  you  to  sell  him  your  personal 
influence,  your  self-respect  and  your  immortal  soul?" 

"I'd  ask  his  price,"  interposed  Applerod  with  a 
grin. 

"You'd  never  get  an  offer,"  snapped  Johnson  to 
Applerod,  "for  you  haven't  any  to  sell.  Why  do  you 
ask,  Mr.  Burnit?" 

Bobby  regarded  Johnson  thoughtfully  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"I  know  how  to  make  the  Brightlight  Electric 
Company  yield  me  two  hundred  per  cent,  dividends 
within  a  year  or  less,"  he  stated. 

"Through  Stone?"  inquired  Johnson. 


ELECTRICITY    AND    POLITICS       185 

"Through  Stone,"  admitted  Bobby,  smiling  at 
Johnson's  penetration. 

"I  thought  so.  I  guess  your  father  has  summed 
up,  better  than  I  could  put  it,  all  there  is  to  be  said 
upon  that  subject."  And  from  his  index-file  he  pro- 
duced one  of  the  familiar  gray  envelopes,  inscribed : 

To  My  Son  Robert  Upon  the  Subject  of  Bribery 

"When  a  man  sells  his  independence  and  the  faith  of 
his  friends  he  is  bankrupt.  Both  the  taker  and  the 
giver  of  a  bribe,  even  when  it  is  called  'preferment,' 
are  like  dogs  with  fleas ;  they  yelp  in  their  sleep ;  only 
the  man  gets  callous  after  a  while  and  the  dog  doesn't. 
Whoever  the  fellow  is  that's  trying  to  buy  your  self- 
respect,  go  soak  him  in  the  eye,  and  pay  your  fine." 

"For  once  I  agree  most  heartily  with  the  governor," 
said  Bobby,  and  as  a  result  he  did  not  go  to  see  Stone. 
Moreover,  Frank  L.  Sharpe  was  blackballed  at  the 
Idlers'  Club  with  cheerful  unanimity,  and  Bobby  figu- 
ratively squared  his  shoulders  to  receive  the  blow  that 
he  was  convinced  must  certainly  fall. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

AGNES    APPEARS     PUBLICLY    WITH     MRS.     SHARPE     AND 
BIFF    BATES    HAS    A    ONE-ROUND    SCRAP 

THAT  night,  though  rather  preoccupied  by 
the  grave  consequences  that  might  ensue  on 
this  flat-footed  defiance  of  Stone  and  his 
crowd,  Bobby  went  to  the  theater  with  Jack  Starlett 
and  Jack's  sister  and  mother.  As  they  seated  them- 
selves he  bowed  gravely  across  the  auditorium  to 
Agnes  and  Aunt  Constance  Elliston,  who,  with  Uncle 
Dan,  were  entertaining  a  young  woman  relative  from 
Savannah.  He  did  not  know  how  the  others  accepted 
his  greeting ;  he  only  saw  Agnes,  and  she  smiled  quite 
placidly  at  him,  which  was  far  worse  than  if  she  had 
tilted  her  head.  Through  two  dreary,  interminable 
acts  he  sat  looking  at  the  stage,  trying  to  talk  small 
talk  with  the  Starletts  and  remaining  absolutely  mis- 
erable; but  shortly  before  the  beginning  of  the  last 
act  he  was  able  to  take  a  quite  new  and  gleeful  inter- 
est in  life,  for  the  young  woman  from  Savannah  came 
fluttering  into  the  Elliston  box,  bearing  in  tow  the 
beautiful  and  vivacious  Mrs.  Frank  L.  Sharpe ! 
186 


AGNES  APPEARS  WITH  MRS.  SHARPE    187 

Bobby  turned  his  opera-glasses  at  once  upon  that 
box,  and  pressed  Jack  Starlett  into  service.  Being 
thus  attracted,  the  ladies  of  the  Starlett  box,  mystified 
and  unable  to  extract  any  explanation  from  the  two 
gleeful  men,  were  compelled,  by  force  of  circumstances 
and  curiosity,  also  to  opera-glass  and  lorgnette  the 
sufferers. 

Like  the  general  into  which  he  was  developing, 
Bobby  managed  to  meet  Agnes  face  to  face  in  the 
foyer  after  the  show.  Tears  of  mortification  were  in 
her  eyes,  but  still  she  was  laughing  when  he  strode 
up  to  her  and  with  masterful  authority  drew  her  arm 
beneath  his  own. 

"Your  carriage  is  too  small  for  four,"  Bobby  calmly 
told  Mr.  Elliston,  and,  excusing  himself  from  the 
Starletts,  deliberately  conducted  Agnes  to  a  hansom. 
As  they  got  well  under  way  he  observed : 

"You  will  notice  that  I  make  no  question  of  being 
seen  in  public  with — " 

"Bobby!"  she  protested.  "Violet  did  not  know. 
The  Sharpes  visited  in  Savannah.  His  connections 
down  there  are  quite  respectable,  and  no  doubt  Mrs. 
Sharpe,  who  is  really  clever,  held  herself  very  cir- 
cumspectly." 

"Fine !"  said  Bobby.  "You  will  notice  that  I  am 
quite  willing  to  listen  to  you.  Explain  some  more." 

"Bobby!"  she  protested  again,  and  then  suddenly 


188    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

she  bent  forward  and  pressed  her  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes. 

Bobby  was  astounded.  She  was  actually  crying! 
In  a  moment  he  had  her  in  his  arms,  was  pressing  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder,  was  saying  soothing  things 
to  her  with  perfectly  idiotic  volubility.  For  an  in- 
finitesimally  brief  space  Agnes  yielded  to  that  em- 
brace, and  then  suddenly  she  straightened  up  in  dis- 
may. 

"Good  gracious,  Bobby!"  she  exclaimed.  "This 
hansom  is  all  glass!" 

He  looked  out  upon  the  brilliantly  lighted  street 
with  a  reflex  of  her  own  consternation,  but  quickly 
found  consolation. 

"Well,  after  all,"  he  reflected  philosophically,  "I 
don't  believe  anybody  who  saw  me  would  blame  me." 

"You're  a  perfectly  incorrigible  Bobby,"  she 
laughed.  "The  only  check  possible  to  put  upon  you 
is  to  hold  you  rigidly  to  business.  How  are  you  com- 
ing out  with  the  Brightlight  Electric  Company?  I 
have  been  dying  to  ask  you  about  it." 

"I  have  a  telephone  in  my  office,"  he  reminded  her. 

"I  am  completely  ignoring  that  ungenerous  sug- 
gestion," she  replied. 

"It  wasn't  sportsmanlike,"  he  penitently  admitted. 
"Well,  the  Brightlight  Electric  is  still  making  money, 
and  Johnson  has  stopped  leaks  to  the  amount  of  at 


AGNES  APPEARS  WITH  MRS.  SHARPE    189 

least  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  which  will  per- 
mit us  to  keep  up  the  ten  per  cent,  dividends,  even 
with  our  increased  capitalization,  and  even  without 
an  increase  of  business." 

"Glorious !"  she  said  with  sparkling  eyes. 

"Too  good  to  be  true,"  he  assured  her.  "They'll 
take  it  away  from  me." 

"How  is  it  possible  ?"  she  asked. 

"It  isn't;  but  it  will  happen,  nevertheless,"  he  de- 
clared with  conviction. 

He  had  already  begun  to  spend  his  days  and  nights 
in  apprehension  of  this,  and  as  the  weeks  went  on  and 
nothing  happened  his  apprehension  grew  rather  than 
diminished. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Consolidated  Illuminating  and 
Power  Company  went  pompously  on.  The  great  com- 
bine was  formed,  the  fifty  million  dollars'  worth  of 
stock  was  opened  for  subscription,  and  the  company 
gave  a  vastly  expensive  banquet  in  the  convention 
hall  of  the  Hotel  Spender,  at  which  a  thousand  of  the 
city's  foremost  men  were  entertained,  and  where  the 
cleverest  after-dinner  speakers  to  be  obtained  talked 
in  relays  until  long  after  midnight.  Those  who  came 
to  eat  the  rich  food  and  drink  the  rare  wine  and  lend 
their  countenances  to  the  stupendous  local  enterprise, 
being  shrewd  business  graduates  who  had  cut  their 
eye-teeth  in  their  cradles,  smiled  and  went  home  with- 


190    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

out  any  thought  of  investing;  but  the  hard-working, 
economical  chaps  of  the  offices  and  shops,  men  who 
felt  elated  if,  after  five  years  of  slavery,  they  could 
show  ten  hundred  dollars  of  savings,  glanced  in  awe 
over  this  magnificent  list  of  names  in  the  next  day's 
papers.  If  the  stock  of  the  Corsolidated  Illuminating 
and  Power  Company  was  considered  a  good  invest- 
ment by  these  generals  and  captains  and  lieutenants 
of  finance,  who,  of  course,  attended  this  Arabian 
Nights  banquet  as  investors,  it  must  certainly  be  a 
good  investment  for  the  corporals  and  privates. 

Immediately  vivid  results  were  shown.  Immense 
electric  signs,  furnished  at  less  than  cost  and  some  of 
them  as  big  as  the  buildings  upon  the  roofs  of  which 
they  were  erected,  began  to  make  constellations  in  the 
city  sky ;  buildings  in  the  principal  down-town  squares 
were  studded,  for  little  or  nothing,  with  outside  in- 
candescent lights  as  thickly  as  wall  space  could  be 
found  for  them,  and  the  men  whose  only  automobiles 
are  street-cars  awoke  to  the  fact  that  their  city  was 
becoming  intensely  metropolitan;  that  it  was  blazing 
with  the  blaze  of  Paris  and  London  and  New  York; 
that  all  this  glittering  advancement  was  due  to  the 
great  new  Consolidated  Illuminating  and  Power  Com- 
pany, and  more  applications  for  stock  were  made ! 

Every  applicant  was  supplied,  but  the  treasury 
stock  of  the  company  having  been  sold  out,  the  scrip 


AGNES  APPEARS  WITH  MRS.  SHARPE    191 

had  to  come  from  some  place  else,  and  it  came  through 
devious,  secret  ways  from  the  holdings  of  such  men 
as  Stone  and  Garland  and  Sharpe. 

During  the  grand  orgie  of  illumination  the  elec- 
tion came  on;  the  price  of  gas  and  electricity  went 
gloriously  and  recklessly  down,  and  the  men  who  were 
identified  with  the  triumphantly  successful  new  illu- 
minating company  were  the  leading  figures  in  the 
campaign.  The  puerile  "reform  party,"  the  blunders 
of  whose  incompetence  had  been  ridiculous,  was  swept 
out  of  existence;  Garland  was  elected  mayor  by  the 
most  overwhelming  majority  that  had  ever  been  known 
in  the  city,  and  with  him  was  elected  a  council  of  the 
same  political  faith.  Sam  Stone,  always  in  the  back- 
ground, always  keeping  his  name  out  of  the  papers 
as  much  as  possible,  came  once  more  to  the  throne, 
and  owned  the  city  and  all  its  inhabitants  and  all  its 
business  enterprises  and  all  its  public  utilities,  body 
and  soul. 

One  night,  shortly  after  the  new  officials  went  into 
power,  there  was  no  light  in  the  twelve  blocks  over 
which  the  Brightlight  Company  had  exclusive  control, 
nor  any  light  in  the  outside  districts  it  supplied. 
This  was  the  first  time  in  years  that  the  company, 
equipped  with  an  emergency  battery  of  dynamos 
which  now  proved  out  of  order,  had  ever  failed  for 
an  instant  of  proper  service.  Candles,  kerosene  lamps 


192    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

and  old  gas  fixtures,  the  rusty  cocks  of  which  had 
not  been  turned  in  a  decade,  were  put  hastily  in  use, 
while  the  streets  were  black  with  a  blackness  particu- 
larly Stygian,  contrasted  with  the  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated squares  supplied  by  the  Consolidated  Company. 
All  night  long  the  mechanical  force,  attended  by  the 
worried  but  painfully  helpless  Bobby,  pounded  and 
tapped  and  worked  in  the  grime,  but  it  was  not  until 
broad  daylight  that  they  were  able  to  discover  the 
cause  of  trouble.  For  two  nights  the  lights  ran  stead- 
ily. On  the  third  night,  at  about  seven-thirty,  they 
turned  to  a  dull,  red  glow,  and  slowly  died  out.  This 
time  it  was  wire  trouble,  and  through  the  long  night 
as  large  a  force  of  men  as  could  be  mustered  were 
tracing  it.  Not  until  noon  of  the  next  day  was  the 
leak  found. 

It  was  a  full  week  before  that  section  of  the  city 
was  for  the  third  time  in  darkness,  but  when  this 
occurred  the  business  men  of  the  district,  who  had 
been  patient  enough  the  first  night  and  enduring 
enough  the  second,  loosed  their  reins  and  became 
frantic. 

At  this  happy  juncture  the  Consolidated  Company 
threw  an  army  of  canvassers  into  those  twelve  monop- 
olized blocks,  and  the  canvassers  did  not  need  to  be 
men  who  could  talk,  for  arguments  were  not  neces- 
sary. The  old,  worn-out  equipment  of  the  Bright- 


AGNES  APPEARS  WITH  MRS.  SHARPE    193 

light  Electric,  and  the  fact  that  it  was  managed  and 
controlled  by  men  who  knew  nothing  whatever  of  the 
business,  its  very  president  a  young  fellow  who  had 
probably  never  seen  a  dynamo  until  he  took  charge, 
were  enough. 

Bobby,  passing  over  Plum  Street  one  morning,  was 
surprised  to  see  a  large  gang  of  men  putting  in  new 
poles,  and  when  he  reached  the  office  he  asked  John- 
son about  it.  In  two  minutes  he  had  definitely  ascer- 
tained that  no  orders  had  been  issued  by  the  Bright- 
light  Electric  Company  nor  any  one  connected  with 
it,  and  further  inquiry  revealed  the  fact  that  these 
poles  were  being  put  up  by  the  Consolidated.  He 
called  up  Chalmers  at  once. 

"I  knew  I'd  hear  from  you,"  said  Chalmers,  "and 
I  have  already  been  at  work  on  the  thing.  Of  course, 
you  saw  what  was  in  the  papers." 

"No,"  confessed  Bobby.  "Only  the  sporting 
pages." 

"You  should  read  news,  local  and  general,  every 
morning,"  scolded  Chalmers.  "The  new  city  council, 
at  their  meeting  last  night,  granted  the  Consolidated 
a  franchise  to  put  up  poles  and  wires  in  this  district 
for  lighting." 

"But  how  could  they?"  expostulated  Bobby.  "Our 
contract  with  the  city  has  several  years  to  run  yet, 
and  guarantees  us  exclusive  privilege  to  supply  light, 


194    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

both  to  the  city  and  to  private  individuals,  in  those 
twelve  blocks." 

"That  cleverly  unobtrusive  joker  clause  about 
'reasonably  satisfactory  service,'  "  replied  Chalmers 
angrily.  "By  the  way,  have  you  investigated  the 
cause  of  those  accidents  very  thoroughly?  Whether 
there  was  anything  malicious  about  them?" 

Bobby  confessed  that  he  had  not  thought  of  the 
possibility. 

"I  think  it  would  pay  you  to  do  so.  I  am  delving 
into  this  thing  as  deeply  as  I  can,  and  with  your  per- 
mission I  am  going  to  call  your  father's  old  attorney, 
Mr.  Barrister,  into  consultation." 

"Go  ahead,  by  all  means,"  said  Bobby,  worried  be- 
yond measure. 

At  five  o'clock  that  evening  Con  Ripley  came  jaunt- 
ily to  the  plant  of  the  Brightlight  Electric  Company. 
Con  was  the  engineer,  and  the  world  was  a  very  good 
joke  to  him,  although  not  such  a  joke  that  he  ever 
overlooked  his  own  interests.  He  spruced  up  con- 
siderably outside  of  working  hours,  did  Con,  and, 
although  he  was  nearing  forty,  considered  himself 
very  much  a  ladies'  man,  also  an  accomplished  athlete, 
and  positively  the  last  word  in  electrical  knowledge. 
He  was  donning  his  working  garments  in  very  lei- 
surely fashion  when  a  short,  broad-shouldered,  thick- 
set young  man  came  back  toward  him  from  the  office. 


AGNES  APPEARS  WITH  MRS.  SHARPE    195 

"You're  Con  Ripley?"  said  the  new-comer  by  way 
of  introduction. 

"Maybe,"  agreed  Con.    "Who  are  you?" 

"I'm  the  Assistant  Works,"  observed  Professor 
Henry  H.  Bates. 

"Oh!"  said  Mr.  Ripley  in  some  wonder,  looking 
from  the  soft  cap  of  Mr.  Bates  to  the  broad,  thick 
tan  shoes  of  Mr.  Bates,  and  then  back  up  to  the  wide- 
set  eyes.  "I  hadn't  heard  about  it." 

"No?"  responded  Mr.  Bates.  "Well,  I  came  in  to 
tell  you.  I  don't  know  enough  about  electricity  to 
say  whether  you  feed  it  with  a  spoon  or  from  a  bottle, 
but  I'm  here,  just  the  same,  to  notice  that  the  juice 
slips  through  the  wires  all  right  to-night,  all  right." 

"The  hell  you  are !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ripley,  taking 
sudden  umbrage  at  both  tone  and  words,  and  also  at 
the  physical  attitude  of  Mr.  Bates,  which  had  grown 
somewhat  threatening.  "All  right,  Mr.  Works,"  and 
Mr.  Ripley  began  to  step  out  of  his  overalls;  "jump 
right  in  and  push  juice  till  you  get  black  in  the  face, 
while  I  take  a  little  vacation.  I've  been  wanting  a 
lay-off  for  a  long  time." 

"You'll  lay  on,  Bo,"  dissented  Mr.  Bates.  "Nix 
on  the  vacation.  That's  just  the  point.  You're  go- 
ing to  stick  on  the  job,  and  I'm  going  to  stick  within 
four  feet  of  you  till  old  Jim-jams  Jones  shakes  along 
to  get  his  morning's  morning;  and  it  will  be  a  sign 


196    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

of  awful  bad  luck  for  you  if  the  lights  in  this  end  of 
town  flicker  a  single  flick  any  time  to-night." 

"Is  that  it?"  Mr.  Ripley  wanted  to  know.  "And 
if  they  should  happen  to  flicker  some  what  are  you 
going  to  do  about  it?" 

"I  don't  know  yet,"  said  Biff.  "I'll  knock  your 
block  off  first  and  think  about  it  afterward !" 

Mr.  Ripley  hastily  drew  his  overalls  back  on  and 
slipped  the  straps  over  his  shoulders  with  a  snap. 

"You'll  tell  me  when  you're  going  to  do  it,  won't 
you?"  he  asked  banteringly,  and,  a  full  head  taller 
than  Mr.  Bates,  glared  down  at  him  a  moment  in  con- 
tempt. Then  he  laughed.  "I'll  give  you  ten  to  one 
the  lights  will  flicker,"  he  offered  to  bet.  "I  wouldn't 
stop  such  a  cunning  chance  for  exercise  for  real 
money,"  and,  whirling  upon  his  heel,  Mr.  Ripley 
started  upon  his  usual  preliminary  examination  of 
dynamos  and  engines  and  boilers. 

Quite  nonchalantly  Mr.  Bates,  puffing  at  a  particu- 
larly villainous  stogie  and  with  his  hands  resting  idly 
in  his  pockets,  swung  after  Mr.  Ripley,  keeping  within 
almost  precisely  four  feet  of  him.  In  the  boiler- 
room,  Ripley,  finding  Biff  still  at  his  heels,  said  to 
the  fireman,  with  a  jerk  of  his  thumb  over  his  shoul- 
der: 

"Rocksey,  be  sure  you  keep  a  good  head  of  steam 
on  to-night  if  you're  a  friend  of  mine.  This  is  Mr. 


AGNES  APPEARS  WITH  MRS.  SHARPE    197 

Assistant  Works  back  Here,  and  he's  come  in  to  knock 
my  block  off  if  the  lights  flicker." 

"Rocksey,"  a  lean  man  with  gray  beard-bristles  like 
pins  and  with  muscles  in  astounding  lumps  upon  his 
grimy  arms,  surveyed  Mr.  Bates  with  a  grin  which 
meant  volumes. 

"Ring  a  bell  when  it  starts,  will  you,  Con?"  he  re- 
quested. 

To  this  Biff  paid  not  the  slightest  attention,  gazing 
stolidly  at  the  red  fire  where  it  shone  through  the 
holes  of  the  furnace  doors;  but  when  Mr.  Rip  ley 
moved  away  Biff  moved  also.  Ripley  introduced  Biff 
in  much  the  same  terms  to  a  tall  man  who  was  oiling 
the  big,  old-fashioned  Corliss,  and  a  sudden  gleam 
came  into  the  tall  man's  eyes  as  he  recognized  Mr. 
Bates,  but  he  turned  back  to  his  oiling  without  smile 
or  comment.  Ripley  eyed  him  sharply. 

"You'll  hold  the  sponge  and  water-bottle  for  me, 
won't  you,  Daly?"  he  asked,  with  an  evident  attempt 
at  jovial  conciliation. 

Daly  deliberately  wiped  the  slender  nose  of  his  oil 
can  and  went  on  oiling. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Ripley  with  a  frown. 
"Got  a  grouch  again?" 

"Yes,  I  have,"  admitted  Daly  without  looking  up, 
and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Then  cut  it  out,"  said  Ripley,  "and  look  real  un- 


198    THE  MAEING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

peeved  when  somebody  hands  you  tickets  to  the  cir- 
cus." 

From  that  moment  Mr.  Ripley  seemed  to  take  a 
keen  delight  in  goading  Mr.  Bates.  He  took  a  sud- 
den dash  half-way  down  the  length  of  the  long  room, 
as  if  going  to  the  extreme  other  end  of  the  plant, 
then  suddenly  whirled  and  retraced  his  steps  to  meet 
Biff  coming  after  him;  made  an  equally  sudden  dart 
for  the  mysterious  switch-board,  and  seized  a  lever  as 
if  to  throw  it,  but  suddenly  changed  his  mind,  appar- 
ently, and  went  away,  leaving  Mr.  Bates  to  infer  that 
the  throwing  of  that  particular  lever  would  leave  them 
all  in  darkness ;  later,  with  Biff  ready  to  spring  upon 
him,  he  threw  that  switch  to  show  that  it  had  no  im- 
portant function  to  perform  at  all.  To  all  these  and 
many  more  ingenious  tricks  to  humiliate  him,  Mr. 
Bates  paid  not  the  slightest  attention,  but,  as  calmly 
and  as  impassively  as  Fate,  kept  as  nearly  as  he  could 
to  the  four-foot  distance  he  had  promised. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  when  Biff,  interested  for 
a  moment  in  the  switch-board,  suddenly  missed  Ripley, 
and  looking  about  him  hastily  he  saw  the  fireman 
standing  in  the  door  of  the  boiler-room  grinning  at 
him,  while  the  other  workmen — all  of  whom  were  of 
the  old  regime — were  also  enjoying  his  discomfort; 
but  Daly,  catching  his  eye,  nodded  significantly  to- 
ward the  side-door  which  led  upon  the  street.  It  was 


AGNES  APPEARS  WITH  MRS.  SHARPS  199 

an  almost  imperceptible  nod,  but  it  was  enough  for 
Biff,  and  he  dashed  out  of  that  door.  Half  a  block 
ahead  of  him  he  saw  Ripley  hurrying,  and  took  after 
him  with  that  light,  cat-like  run  which  is  the  height 
of  effortless  and  noiseless  speed.  Ripley,  looking 
back  hastily,  hurried  into  a  saloon,  and  he  had 
scarcely  closed  the  door  when  Biff  entered  after  him, 
in  time  to  see  his  man  standing  at  the  telephone,  re- 
ceiver in  hand.  It  was  the  work  of  but  an  instant 
to  grab  Ripley  by  the  arm  and  jerk  him  away  from 
the  'phone.  Quickly  recovering  his  balance,  with  a 
lunge  of  his  whole  body  Ripley  shot  a  swift  fist  at 
the  man  who  had  interfered  with  him,  but  Biff,  with- 
out shifting  his  position,  jerked  his  head  to  one  side 
and  the  fist  shot  harmlessly  by.  Before  another  blow 
could  be  struck,  or  parried,  the  bartender,  a  brawny 
giant,  had  rushed  between  them. 

"Let  us  alone,  Jeff,"  panted  Ripley.  "I've  got  all 
I  can  stand  for  from  this  rat." 

"Outside !"  said  Jeff  with  cold  finality.  "You  can 
beat  him  to  a  pulp  in  the  street,  Con,  but  there'll  be 
no  scrimmage  in  this  place  without  me  having  a  hand 
in  it." 

Ripley  considered  this  ultimatum  for  a  moment  in 
silence,  and  then,  to  Biff's  surprise,  suddenly  ran 
out  of  the  door.  It  was  a  tight  race  to  the  plant, 
and  there,  with  Biff  not  more  than  two  arms'  length 


£00    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

behind  him,  Ripley  jerked  at  a  lever  hitherto  un- 
touched, and  instantly  the  place  was  plunged  into 
complete  darkness. 

"There!"  screamed  Ripley. 

A  second  later  Biff  had  grappled  him,  and  together 
they  went  to  the  floor.  It  was  only  a  moment  that 
the  darkness  lasted,  however,  for  tall  Tom  Daly  stood 
by  the  replaced  switch,  looking  down  at  them  in  quiet 
joy.  Immediately  with  the  turning  on  of  the  light 
Biff  scrambled  to  his  feet  like  a  cat  and  waited  for 
Ripley  to  rise.  It  was  Ripley  who  made  the  first 
lunge,  which  Biff  dexterously  ducked,  and  immedi- 
ately after  Biff's  right  arm  shot  out,  catching  his 
antagonist  a  glancing  blow  upon  the  side  of  the 
cheek;  a  blow  which  drew  blood.  Infuriated,  again 
Ripley  rushed,  but  was  blocked,  and  for  nearly  a 
minute  there  was  a  swift  exchange  of  light  blows 
which  did  little  damage ;  then  Biff  found  his  opening, 
and,  swinging  about  the  axis  of  his  own  spine,  threw 
the  entire  force  of  his  body  behind  his  right  arm, 
and  the  fist  of  that  arm  caught  Ripley  below  the  ear 
and  dropped  him  like  a  beef,  just  as  Bobby  came 
running  back  from  the  office. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Biff?  What's  the  mat- 
ter?" demanded  Bobby,  as  Ripley,  dazed,  struggled 
to  his  feet,  and,  though  weaving,  drew  himself  to- 
gether for  another  onslaught. 


AGNES  APPEARS  WITH  MRS.  SHARPE    201 

"Matter!"  snarled  Biff.  "I  landed  on  a  frame-up, 
that's  all.  This  afternoon  I  saw  Sharpe  and  this 
Ripley  together  in  a  bum  wine-room  on  River  Street, 
swapping  so  much  of  that  earnest  conversation  that 
the  partitions  bulged,  and  I  dropped  to  the  double- 
cross  that's  being  handed  out  to  you.  I've  been  try- 
ing to  telephone  you  ever  since,  but  when  I  couldn't 
find  you  I  came  right  down  to  run  the  plant.  That's 
all." 

"You're  all  right,  Biff,"  laughed  Bobby,  "but  I 
guess  we'll  call  this  a  one-round  affair,  and  I'll  take 
charge." 

"Don't  stop  'em!"  cried  Daly  savagely,  turning 
to  Bobby.  "Hand  it  to  him,  Biff.  He's  a  crook 
and  an  all-round  sneak.  He  beat  me  out  of  this  job 
by  underhand  means,  and  there  ain't  a  man  in  the 
place  that  ain't  tickled  to  death  to  see  him  get  the 
beating  that's  coming  to  him.  Paste  him,  Biff !" 

"Biff!"  repeated  Mr.  Ripley,  suddenly  dropping 
his  hands.  "Biff  who?" 

"Mr.  Biff  Bates,  the  well-known  and  justly  cele- 
brated ex-champion  middleweight,"  announced  Bobby 
with  a  grin.  "Mr.  Ripley — Mr.  Bates." 

"Biff  Bates !"  repeated  Con  Ripley.  "Why  "didn't 
some  of  you  guys  tell  me  this  was  Biff  Bates?  Mr. 
Bates,  I'm  glad  to  meet  you."  And  with  much  re- 
spect he  held  forth  his  hand. 


202    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Go  chase  yourself,"  growled  Mr.  Bates,  in  infi- 
nite scorn. 

Ripley  replied  with  a  sudden  volley  of  abuse, 
couched  in  the  vilest  of  language,  but  to  this  Biff 
made  no  reply.  He  dropped  his  hands  in  his  coat 
pockets,  and,  considering  his  work  done,  walked  over 
to  the  wall  and  leaned  against  it,  awaiting  further 
developments. 

"Daly,"  asked  Bobby  sharply,  breaking  in  upon 
Ripley's  tirade,  "are  you  competent  to  run  this 
plant?" 

"Certainly,  sir,"  replied  Daly.  "I  should  have  had 
the  job  four  years  ago.  I  was  promised  it." 

"You  may  consider  yourself  in  charge,  then.  Mr. 
Ripley,  if  you  will  walk  up  to  the  office  I'll  pay 
you  off." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BOBBY'S  MONEY  is  ELECTROCUTED  AND  JOHN  BUENIT'S 

SON    WAKES    UP 

BOBBY,  jubilant,  went  to  see  Chalmers  next 
day.  The  lawyer  listened  gravely,  but 
shook  his  head. 

"I'm  bound  to  tell  you,  Mr.  Burnit,  that  you  have 
no  case.  You  must  have  more  proof  than  this  to 
bring  a  charge  of  conspiracy.  Ripley  had  a  perfect 
right  to  talk  with  Sharpe  or  to  telephone  to  some 
one,  and  mere  hot-headedness  could  explain  his  shut- 
ting off  the  lights.  Your  over-enthusiastic  friend 
Bates  has  ruined  whatever  prospect  you  might  have 
had.  Your  suspicions  once  aroused,  you  should  have 
let  your  man  do  as  he  liked,  but  should  have  watched 
him  and  caught  him  in  a  trap  of  some  sort.  Now  it 
is  too  late.  Moreover,  I  have  bad  news  for  you. 
Your  contract  for  city  lighting  is  ironclad,  and  can 
not  be  broken,  but  I  saw  to-day  a  paper  signed  by 
an  overwhelming  majority  of  your  private  consumers 
that  the  service  is  not  even  "reasonably  satisfactory,' 
and  that  they  wish  the  field  open  to  competition. 
203 


204    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

With  this  paper  to  back  them,  Stone's  council  granted 
the  right  to  the  Consolidated  Company  to  erect  poles, 
string  wires  and  supply  current.  We  can  bring  suit 
if  you  say  so,  but  you  will  lose  it." 

"Bring  suit,  then!"  ordered  Bobby  vehemently. 
"Why,  Chalmers,  the  contract  for  the  city  lighting 
alone  would  cost  the  Brightlight  money  every  year. 
The  profit  has  all  been  made  from  private  consum- 
ers." 

"That's  why  you're  losing  it,"  said  Chalmers 
dryly.  "The  whole  project  is  very  plain  to  me  now. 
The  Consumers  and  the  United  Companies  never 
cared  to  enter  that  field,  because  their  controlling 
stock-holders  were  also  the  Brightlight  controlling 
stock-holders,  and  they  could  get  more  money  through 
the  Brightlight  than  they  could  through  the  other 
companies ;  and  so  they  led  the  public  to  believe  that 
there  was  no  breaking  the  monopoly  the  Brightlight 
held  upon  their  service.  Now,  however,  they  want  to 
gain  another  stock- jobbing  advertisement  by  driving 
you  out  of  the  field.  They  planned  from  the  first  to 
wreck  you  for  just  that  purpose — to  make  Consoli- 
dated stock  seem  more  desirable  when  the  stock  sales 
began  to  dwindle — and  they  are  perfectly  willing  to 
furnish  the  consumers  in  your  twelve  blocks  with  cur- 
rent at  their  present  ridiculously  low  rate,  because, 
with  them,  any  possible  profits  to  be  derived  from  the 


BOBBY'S  MONEY  ELECTROCUTED     205 

business  are  insignificant  compared  to  the  profits  to 
be  derived  from  the  sale  of  their  watered  stock.  The 
price  of  illumination  and  power,  later,  will  soar! 
Watch  it.  They're  a  very  bright  crowd,"  and  Mr. 
Chalmers  paused  to  admire  them. 

"In  other  words,"  said  Bobby  glumly.  ""I  am 
what  Biff  Bates  told  me  I  would  be — the  goat." 

"Precisely,"  agreed  Chalmers. 

"Begin  suit  anyhow,"  directed  Bobby,  "and  we'll 
see  what  comes  of  it." 

"By  the  way,"  called  Chalmers  with  a  curious  smile 
as  Bobby  opened  the  door;  "I've  just  learned  that 
one  of  the  foremost  enthusiasts  in  this  whole  manipu- 
lation has  been  quiet  and  conservative  Silas  Trim- 
mer." 

Bobby  did  not  swear.  He  simply  slammed  the 
door. 

Two  days  later  Bobby  was  surprised  to  see  Sharpe 
drop  in  upon  him. 

"I  understand  you  are  bringing  suit  against  the 
Consolidated  for  encroachment  upon  your  territory, 
and  against  the  city  for  abrogation  of  contract," 
began  Sharpe. 

"Yes,"  said  Bobby. 

"Don't  you  think  it  rather  a  waste  of  money,  Mr. 
Burnit?  I  can  guarantee  you  positively  that  you  will 
not  win  either  suit." 


206    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"I'm  willing  to  wait  to  find  that  out." 

"No  use,"  said  Sharpe  impatiently.  "I'll  tell  you 
what  we  will  do,  Mr.  Burnit.  If  you  care  to  have  us 
to  do  so,  the  Consolidated,  a  little  later  on,  will  ab- 
sorb the  Brightlight." 

"On  what  terms  ?"  asked  Bobby. 

"It  all  depends.  We  might  discuss  that  later. 
There's  another  matter  I'd  like  to  speak  with  you 
about.  Stone  wants  to  see  you,  even  yet.  I  want  to 
tell  you,  Mr.  Burnit,  he  can  get  along  a  great  deal 
better  without  you  than  you  can  without  him,  as  you 
are  probably  willing  to  admit  by  now.  But  he  still 
wants  you.  Go  and  see  Stone." 

"On — what — terms — will  the  Consolidated  now  ab- 
sorb the  Brightlight?"  demanded  Bobby  sternly. 

"Well,"  drawled  Sharpe,  with  a  complete  change 
of  manner,  "the  property  has  deteriorated  considera- 
bly within  a  remarkably  short  space  of  time,  but 
I  should  say  that  we  would  buy  the  Brightlight  for 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars  in  stock  of  the  Con- 
solidated, half  preferred  and  half  common." 

"And  this  is  your  very  best  offer?" 

"The  very  best,"  replied  Sharpe,  making  no  at- 
tempt to  conceal  his  exultant  grin. 

"Not  on  your  life,"  declared  Bobby.  "I'm  going 
to  hold  the  Brightlight  intact.  I'm  going  to  fulfill 
the  city  contract  at  a  loss,  if  it  takes  every  cent  I  can 


BOBBY'S  MONEY  ELECTROCUTED     207 

scrape  together,  and  then  I'm  going  to  enter  politics 
myself.  I'm  going  to  drive  Stone  and  his  crowd  out 
of  this  city,  and  we  shall  see  if  we  can  not  make  a  re- 
adjustment of  the  illuminating  business  on  my  basis 
instead  of  his.  Good  day,  Mr.  Sharpe." 

"Good  day,  sir,"  said  Sharpe,  and  this  time  he 
laughed  aloud. 

At  the  door  he  turned. 

"I'd  like  to  call  your  attention,  young  man,  to  the 
fact  that  a  great  many  very  determined  gentlemen 
have  announced  their  intention  of  driving  Mr.  Stone 
and  his  associates  out  of  this  city.  You  might  com- 
pare that  with  the  fact  that  Mr.  Stone  and  his  friends 
are  all  here  yet,  and  on  top,"  and  with  that  he  with- 
drew. 

"If  I  may  be  so  bold  as  to  say  so,"  said  Mr.  Ap- 
plerod,  worried  to  paleness  by  this  foolish  defiance  of 
so  great  and  good  a  man,  "you  have  made  a  very 
grave  error,  Mr.  Burnit,  very  grave,  indeed.  It  is 
suicidal  to  defy  Mr.  Sharpe,  and  through  him  Mr. 
Stone!" 

"Will  you  shut  up !"  snarled  Johnson  to  his  ancient 
work-mate.  "Mr.  Burnit,  I  have  no  right  to  take 
the  liberty,  but  I  am  going  to  congratulate  you,  sir. 
Whatever  follies  inexperience  may  have  led  you  to 
commit,  you  are,  at  any  rate,  sir,  a  man,  like  your 
father  was  before  you!"  and  by  way  of  emphasis 


208    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Johnson  smacked  his  fist  on  his  desk  as  he  glared  in 
Mr.  Applerod's  direction. 

"It's  all  very  well  to  show  fight,  Johnson,"  said 
Bobby,  a  little  wanly,  "but  just  the  same  I  have  to 
acknowledge  defeat.  I  am  afraid  I  boasted  too  much. 
Chalmers,  after  considering  the  matter,  positively  re- 
fuses to  bring  suit.  The  whole  game  is  over.  I  have 
the  Brightlight  Company  on  my  hands  at  a  net  dead 
loss  of  every  cent  I  have  sunk  into  it,  and  it  can  not 
pay  me  a  penny  so  long  as  these  men  remain  in  power. 
I  am  going  to  fight  them  with  their  own  weapons, 
but  that  is  a  matter  of  years.  In  the  meantime,  my 
third  business  attempt  is  a  hideous  failure.  Where's 
the  gray  envelope,  Johnson?" 

"It  is  here,"  admitted  Johnson,  and  from  his  file 
took  the  missive  in  question. 

As  Bobby  took  the  letter  from  Johnson  Agnes  came 
into  the  office  and  swept  toward  him  with  outstretched 
hand. 

"It  is  perfectly  shameful,  Bobby!  I  just  read 
about  it!" 

"So  soon?"  he  wanted  to  know. 

She  carried  a  paper  in  her  hand  and  spread  it  be- 
fore him.  In  the  very  head-line  his  fate  was  pro- 
nounced. "Brightlight  Electric  Tottering  to  Its 
Fall,"  was  the  cheerful  line  which  confronted  him, 
and  beneath  this  was  set  forth  the  facts  that  every 


BOBBY'S  MONEY  ELECTROCUTED     209 

profitable  contract  heretofore  held  by  the  Brightlight 
Electric  had  been  taken  away  from  that  unfortunate 
concern,  in  which  the  equipment  was  said  to  be  so  in- 
efficient as  to  render  decent  service  out  of  the  question, 
and  that,  having  remaining  to  it  only  a  money-losing 
contract  for  city  lighting,  business  men  were  freely 
predicting  its  very  sudden  dissolution.  The  item, 
wherein  the  head-line  took  up  more  space  than  the 
news,  wound  up  with  the  climax  statement  that 
Brightlight  stock  was  being  freely  offered  at  around 
forty,  with  no  takers. 

To  her  surprise,  Bobby  tossed  the  paper  on  John- 
son's desk  and  laughed. 

"I  have  been  so  long  prepared  for  this  bit  of 
'news'  that  it  does  not  shock  me  much,"  he  said; 
"moreover,  the  lower  this  stock  goes  the  cheaper  I  can 
buy  it!" 

"Buy  it!"  she  incredulously  exclaimed. 

"Exactly,"  he  stated  calmly.  "I  presume  that,  as 
heretofore,  I'll  be  given  another  check,  and  I  do  not 
see  any  better  place  to  put  the  money  than  right 
here.  I  am  going  to  fight !" 

"Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Johnson.  '"Your 
last  remark  was  spoken  loud  enough  to  be  taken  as 
general,  and  I  am  compelled  to  give  you  this  envel- 
ope." 

Into  his  hands  Johnson  placed  a  mate  to  the  mis- 


210    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

sive  which  Bobby  had  not  yet  opened,  and  this  one 
was  inscribed: 

To  My  Son  Robert,  Upon  His  Declaration  that  He 
Will  Take  Two  Starts  at  the  Same  Business 

Bobby  looked  at  the  two  letters  in  frowning  per- 
plexity, and  then  silently  walked  into  his  own  office, 
where  Agnes  followed  him ;  and  it  was  she  who  closed 
the  door.  He  sat  down  at  his  desk  and  held  that  last 
letter  of  his  father's  before  him  in  dread.  He  had  so 
airily  built  up  his  program;  and  apprehension  told 
him  what  this  letter  might  contain!  Presently  he 
was  conscious  that  Agnes'  arm  was  slipped  across  his 
shoulder.  She  was  sitting  upon  the  arm  of  his  chair, 
and  had  bent  her  cheek  upon  his  head.  So  they  read 
the  curt  message: 

"To  throw  good  money  after  bad  is  like  sprinkling 
salt  on  a  cut.  It  only  intensifies  the  pain  and  doesn't 
work  much  of  a  cure.  In  your  case  it  is  strictly  for- 
bidden. You  must  learn  to  cut  your  garment  accord- 
ing to  your  cloth,  to  bite  off  only  what  you  can  chew, 
to  lift  no  more  than  you  can  carry.  Your  next  start 
must  not  be  encumbered." 

"He's  wrong !"  declared  Bobby  savagely. 
"But  if  he  is,"  protested  Agnes,  "what  can  you  do 
about  it?" 


BOBBY'S  MONEY  ELECTROCUTED     211 

"If  his  bequests  are  conditional  I  shall  have  to  ac- 
cept the  conditions ;  but,  nevertheless,  I  am  going  to 
fight;  and  I  am  going  to  keep  the  Brightlight  Elec- 
tric!" 

Mechanically  he  opened  the  other  letter  now.  The 
contents  were  to  this  effect : 

To  My  Son  Upon  His  Losing  Money  in  a  Public 
Service  Corporation 

"Every  buzz-saw  claims  some  fingers.  Of  course 
you  had  to  be  a  victim,  but  now  you  know  how  to  han- 
dle a  buzz-saw.  The  first  point  about  it  is  to  treat 
it  with  respect.  When  you  realize  thoroughly  that  a 
buzz-saw  is  dangerous,  half  the  danger  is  gone.  So, 
when  your  wound  is  healed,  you  might  go  ahead  and 
saw,  just  as  a  matter  of  accomplishment.  Bobby,  how 
I  wish  I  could  talk  with  you  now,  for  just  one  little 
half  hour." 

Convulsively  Bobby  crumpled  the  letter  in  his  hand 
and  the  tears  started  to  his  eyes. 

"Bully  old  dad !"  he  said  brokenly,  and  opened  his 
watch-case,  where  the  grim  but  humor-loving  face  of 
old  John  Burnit  looked  up  at  his  beloved  children. 

"And  now  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  Agnes 
asked  him  presently,  when  they  were  calmer. 

"Fight!"  he  vehemently  declared.  "For  the  gov- 
ernor's sake  as  well  as  my  own." 


212    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"I  just  found  another  letter  for  you,  sir,"  said 
Johnson,  handing  in  the  third  of  the  missives  to  come 
in  that  day's  mail  from  beyond  the  Styx.  It  was 
inscribed : 

To  My  Son  Robert  Upon  the  Occasion  of  His  Declar- 
ing Fight  Against  the  Politicians  Who 
Robbed  Him 

"Nothing  but  public  laziness  allows  dishonest  men 
to  control  public  affairs.  Any  time  an  honest  man 
puts  up  a  sincere  fight  against  a  crook  there's  a  new 
fat  man  in  striped  clothes.  If  you  have  a  crawful 
and  want  to  fight  against  dirty  politics  in  earnest, 
jump  in,  and  tell  all  my  old  friends  to  put  a  bet 
down  on  you  for  me.  I'd  as  soon  have  you  spend  in 
that  way  the  money  I  made  as  to  buy  yachts  with  it ; 
and  I  can  see  where  the  game  might  be  made  as  inter- 
esting as  polo.  Go  in  and  win,  boy." 

"And  now  what  are  you  going  to  do?"  Agnes 
asked  him,  laughing  this  time. 

"Fight!"  he  declared  exultantly.  "I'm  going  to 
fight  entirely  outside  of  my  father's  money.  I'm 
going  to  fight  with  my  own  brawn  and  my  own  brain 
and  my  own  resources  and  my  own  personal  follow- 
ing! Why,  Agnes,  that  is  what  the  governor  has 
been  goading  me  to  do.  It  is  what  all  this  is  planned 
for,  and  the  governor,  after  all,  is  right !" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

SOME  EMINENT  AKTISTS  AMUSE  MEESTEE  BUENIT  WHILE 
HE    WAITS 

ONE  might  imagine,  after  Bobby's  heroic 
declarations,  that,  like  young  David  of 
old,  he  would  immediately  proceed  to  stride 
forth  and  slay  his  giant.  There  stood  his  Goliath, 
full  panoplied,  sneering,  waiting ;  but  alas !  Bobby 
had  neither  sling  nor  stone.  It  was  all  very  well 
to  announce  in  fine  frenzy  that  he  would  smash  the 
Consolidated,  destroy  the  political  ring,  drive  Sam 
Stone  and  his  henchmen  out  of  town  and  wrest  all 
his  goods  and  gear  from  Silas  Trimmer ;  but  until 
he  could  find  a  place  to  plant  his  foot,  descry  an 
opening  in  the  armor  and  procure  an  adequate 
weapon,  he  might  just  as  well  bottle  his  fuming  and 
wait;  so  Bobby  waited.  In  the  meantime  he  stuck 
very  closely  to  the  Brightlight  office,  finding  there, 
in  the  practice  of  petty  economics  and  the  struggle 
with  well-nigh  impossible  conditions,  ample  food  for 
thought.  In  a  separate  bank  reposed  the  new  fund 
of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars,  which  he 
213 


214    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

kept  religiously  aside  from  the  affairs  of  the  Bright- 
light,  and  this  fund  also  waited;  for  Bobby  was  not 
nearly  so  feverish  to  find  instant  employment  for  it 
as  he  had  been  with  the  previous  ones — though  he 
had  endless  chances.  People  with  the  most  unheard 
of  schemes  seemed  to  have  a  peculiar  scent  for  un- 
sophisticated money,  and  not  only  local  experts  in 
the  gentle  art  of  separation  flocked  after  him,  but 
out  of  town  specialists  came  to  him  in  shoals.  To 
these  latter  he  took  great  satisfaction  in  displaying 
the  gem  of  his  collection  of  post-mortem  letters  from 
old  John  Burnit : 

"You  don't  need  to  go  away  from  home  to  be 
skinned ;  moreover,  it  isn't  patriotic." 

That  usually  stopped  them.  He  was  growing  quite 
sophisticated,  was  Bobby,  quite  able  to  discern  the 
claws  beneath  the  velvet  paw,  quite  suspicious  of  all 
the  ingenious  gentlemen  who  wanted  to  make  a  for- 
tune for  him;  and  their  frantic  attempts  to  "get  his 
goat,"  as  Biff  Bates  expressed  it,  had  become  as  good 
as  a  play  to  this  wise  young  person,  as  also  to  the 
wise  young  person's  trustee. 

Agnes,  who  was  helping  Bobby  wait,  came  occa- 
sionally to  the  office  of  the  Brightlight  on  business, 
and  nearly  always  Bobby  had  reduced  to  paper  some 
gaudy  new  scheme  that  had  been  proposed  to  him, 


Little  me  to  trot  out  and  find  an  angel.     Are  you  it? 


SOME    EMINENT   ARTISTS  215 

over  which  they  both  might  laugh.  In  great  hilarity 
one  morning  they  were  going  over  the  prospectus  of 
a  plan  to  reclaim  certain  swamp  lands  in  Florida, 
when  the  telephone  bell  rang,  and  from  Bobby's  diffi- 
culty in  understanding  and  his  smile  as  he  hung  up 
the  receiver,  Agnes  knew  that  something  else  amusing 
had  turned  up. 

"It  is  from  Schmirdonner,"  he  explained  as  he 
turned  to  her  again.  "He's  the  conductor  of  the 
orchestra  at  the  Orpheum,  you  know.  I  gather  from 
what  he  says  that  there  are  some  stranded  musicians 
here  who  probably  speak  worse  English  than  myself, 
and  he's  sending  them  up  to  me  to  see  about  arrang- 
ing a  benefit  for  them.  You'd  better  wait;  it  might 
be  fun,  or  you  might  want  to  help  arrange  the 
benefit." 

"No,"  disclaimed  Agnes,  laughing  and  drawing 
her  impedimenta  together  for  departure,  "I'll  leave 
both  the  fun  and  the  philanthropy  to  you.  I  know 
you're  quite  able  to  take  care  of  them.  I'll  just  wait 
long  enough  to  hear  how  we're  to  get  rid  of  the  water 
down  in  Florida.  I  suppose  we  bore  holes  in  the 
ground  and  let  it  run  out." 

"By  no  means,"  laughed  Bobby.  "It's  no  where 
near  so  absurdly  simple  as  that,"  and  he  turned  once 
more  to  the  prospectus  which  lay  open  on  the  desk 
before  them. 


216    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Before  they  were  through  with  it  there  suddenly 
erupted  into  the  outer  office,  where  Johnson  and  Ap- 
plerod  glared  at  each  other  day  by  day  over  their 
books,  a  pandemonium  of  gabbling.  Agnes,  with  a 
little  exclamation  of  dismay  at  the  time  she  had 
wasted,  rose  in  a  hurry,  and  immediately  after  she 
passed  through  the  door  there  bounded  into  the  room 
a  rotund  little  German  with  enormous  and  extremely 
thick  glasses  upon  his  knob  of  a  nose,  a  grizzled 
mustache  that  poked  straight  up  on  both  sides  of 
that  knob,  and  an  absurd  toupee  that  flared  straight 
out  all  around  on  top  of  the  bald  spot  to  which  it  was 
pasted.  Behind  him  trailed  a  pudgy  man  of  so  ex- 
actly the  Herr  Professor's  height  and  build  that  it 
seemed  as  if  they  were  cast  in  the  same  spherical 
mold,  but  he  was  much  younger  and  had  jet  black 
hair  and  a  jet  black  mustache  of  such  tiny  propor- 
tions as  to  excite  amazement  and  even  awe.  Still  be- 
hind him  was  an  unusually  large  young  woman,  fully 
a  head  taller  than  either  of  the  two  men,  who  had  an 
abundance  of  jet  black  hair,  and  was  dressed  in  a 
very  rich  robe  and  wrap,  both  of  which  were  some- 
what soiled  and  worn. 

"Signor  R-r-r-r-icardo,  der  grosse  tenore — Mees- 
ter  Burnit,"  introduced  the  rotund  little  German, 
with  a  deep  bow  commensurate  with  the  greatness  of 
the  great  tenor.  "Signorina  Car-r-r-avaggio — Mees- 


SOME    EMINENT   ARTISTS  217 

ter  Burnit.  I,  Mees-ter  Burnit,  Ich  bin  Brofessor 
Friihlingsvogel." 

Bobby,  for  the  lack  of  any  other  handy  greeting, 
merely  bowed  and  smiled,  whereupon  Signorina  Cara- 
vaggio,  stepping  into  a  breach  which  otherwise  would 
certainly  have  been  embarrassing,  seated  herself  com- 
fortably upon  the  edge  of  Bobby's  desk  and  swung 
one  large  but  shapely  foot  while  she  explained 
matters. 

"It's  like  this,  Mr.  Burnit,"  she  confidently  began : 
"when  that  dried-up  little  heathen,  Matteo,  who  tried 
to  run  the  Neapolitan  Grand  Opera  Company  with 
stage  money,  got  us  this  far  on  a  tour  that  is  a  dis- 
grace to  the  profession,  he  had  a  sudden  notion  that 
he  needed  ocean  air ;  so  he  took  what  few  little  dollars 
were  in  the  treasury  and  hopped  right  on  into  New 
York. 

"Here  we  are,  then,  at  the  place  we  were  merely 
'to  make  connections,'  two  hundred  miles  from 
our  next  booking  and  without  enough  money  among 
us  to  buy  a  postage  stamp.  We  haven't  seen  a  cent 
of  salary  for  six  weeks,  and  the  only  thing  we  can 
do  is  to  seize  the  props  and  scenery  and  costumes,  see 
if  they  can  be  sold,  and  disband,  unless  somebody 
gallops  to  the  rescue  in  a  hurry.  Professor  Friih- 
lingsvogel happened  to  know  another  Dutchman  here 
who  conducts  an  orchestra  at  the  Orpheum,  and  he 


218    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

sent  us  to  you.  He  said  you  knew  all  the  swell  set 
and  could  start  a  benefit  going  if  anybody  in  town 
could." 

"Yes,"  said  Bobby,  smiling;  "Schmirdonner  tele- 
phoned me  just  a  few  minutes  ago  that  the  Herr  Pro- 
fessor Friihlingsvogel  would  be  up  to  see  me,  and 
asked  me  to  do  what  I  could.  How  many  of  you  are 
there?" 

"Seventy-three,"  promptly  returned  Signorina 
Caravaggio,  "and  all  hungry.  Forty  singers  and  an 
orchestra  of  thirty — seventy — besides  props  and  the 
stage  manager  and  Herr  Friihlingsvogel,  who  is  the 
musical  director." 

"Where  are  you  stopping?"  asked  Bobby,  aghast 
at  the  size  of  the  contract  that  was  offered  him. 

"We're  not,"  laughed  the  great  Italian  songstress. 
"We  all  went  up  and  registered  at  a  fourth-rate  place 
they  call  the  Hotel  Larken,  but  that's  as  far  as  we 
got,  for  we  were  told  before  the  ink  was  dry  that 
we'd  have  to  come  across  before  we  got  a  single  bis- 
cuit ;  so  there  they  are,  scattered  about  the  S.  R.  O. 
parts  of  that  little  two-by-twice  hotel,  waiting  for 
little  me  to  trot  out  and  find  an  angel.  Are  you  it?" 

"I  can't  really  promise  what  I  can  do,"  hesitated 
Bobby,  who  had  never  been  able  to  refuse  assistance 
where  it  seemed  to  be  needed;  "but  I'll  run  down  to 
the  club  and  see  some  of  the  boys  about  getting  up  a 


SOME    EMINENT   ARTISTS  219 

subscription  concert  for  you.  How  much  help  will 
you  need?" 

"Enough  to  land  us  on  little  old  Manhattan 
Island." 

"And  there  are  over  seventy  of  you  to  feed  and 
take  care  of  for,  say,  three  days,  and  then  to  pay 
railroad  fares  for,"  mused  Bobby,  a  little  startled  as 
the  magnitude  of  the  demand  began  to  dawn  upon 
him.  "Then  there's  the  music-hall,  advertising,  print- 
ing and  I  suppose  a  score  of  other  incidentals.  You 
need  quite  a  pile  of  money.  However,  I'll  go  down 
to  the  club  at  lunch  time  and  see  what  I  can  do  for 
you." 

"I  knew  you  would  the  minute  I  looked  at  you," 
said  the  Signorina  confidently,  which  was  a  compli- 
ment or  not,  the  way  one  looked  at  it.  "But,  say; 
I've  got  a  better  scheme  than  that,  one  that  will  let 
you  make  a  little  money  instead  of  contributing.  I 
understand  the  Orpheum  has  next  week  dark,  through 
yesterday's  failure  of  The  Married  Bachelor  Comedy 
Company.  Why  don't  you  get  the  Orpheum  for  us 
and  back  our  show  for  the  week?  We  have  twelve 
operas  in  our  repertoire.  The  scenery  and  props  are 
very  poor,  the  costumes  are  only  half-way  decent  and 
the  chorus  is  the  rattiest-looking  lot  you  ever  saw  in 
your  life;  but  they  can  sing.  They  went  into  the 
discard  on  account  of  their  faces,  poor  things.  Sup- 


220    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

pose  you  come  over  and  have  a  look.  They'd  melt  you 
to  tears." 

"That  won't  be  necessary,"  hastily  objected  Bobby ; 
"but  I'll  meet  a  lot  of  the  fellows  at  lunch,  and  after- 
ward I'll  let  you  know." 

"After  lunch!"  exclaimed  the  Signorina  with  a 
most  expressive  placing  of  her  hands  over  her  belt, 
whereat  the  Herr  Professor  and  Der  Grosse  Tenore 
both  turned  most  wistfully  to  Bobby  to  see  what  ef- 
fect this  weighty  plea  might  have  upon  him. 
"Lunch !"  she  repeated.  "If  you  would  carry  a  fork- 
full  of  steaming  spaghetti  into  the  Hotel  Larken  at 
this  minute  you'd  start  a  riot.  Why,  Mr.  Burnit,  if 
you're  going  to  do  anything  for  us  you've  got  to 
get  into  action,  because  we've  been  up  since  seven 
and  we  still  want  our  breakfasts." 

"Breakfast!"  exclaimed  Bobby,  looking  hastily 
at  his  watch.  It  was  now  eleven-thirty.  "Come  on; 
we'll  go  right  over  to  the  Larken,  wherever  that  may 
be,"  and  he  exhibited  as  much  sudden  haste  as  if  he 
had  seen  seventy  people  actually  starving  before  his 
very  eyes. 

Just  as  the  quartette  stepped  out  of  the  office,  Biff 
Bates,  just  coming  in,  bustled  up  to  Bobby  with: 

"Can  I  see  you  just  a  minute,  Bobby?  Kid  Mills 
is  coming  around  to  my  place  this  afternoon." 

"Haven't  time  just  now,  Biff,"  said  Bobby;  "but 


SOME    EMINENT    ARTISTS  221 

jump  into  the  machine  with  us  and  I'll  do  the  'chauf- 
fing.'  That  will  make  room  for  all  of  us.  We  can 
talk  on  the  way  to  the  Hotel  Larken.  Do  you  know 
where  it  is?" 

"Me?"  scorned  Biff.  "If  there  is  an  inch  of  this 
old  town  I  can't  put  my  finger  on  in  the  dark,  blind- 
folded, I'll  have  that  inch  dug  out  and  thrown  away." 

At  the  curb,  with  keen  enjoyment  of  the  joke  of 
it  all,  Bobby  gravely  introduced  Mr.  Biff  Bates,  ex- 
champion  middle-weight,  to  these  imported  artists, 
but,  very  much  to  his  surprise,  Signorina  Caravaggio 
and  Professor  Bates  struck  up  an  instant  and  ani- 
mated conversation  anent  Biff's  well-known  and 
justly-famous  victory  over  Slammer  Young,  and  so 
interested  did  they  become  in  this  conversation  that 
instead  of  BifPs  sitting  up  in  the  front  seat,  as  Bobby 
had  intended,  the  eminent  instructor  of  athletics 
manoeuvered  the  Herr  Professor  into  that  post  of 
honor  and  climbed  into  the  tonneau  with  Signor  Ri- 
cardo  and  the  Signorina,  with  the  latter  of  whom  he 
talked  most  volubly  all  the  way  over,  to  the  evidently 
vast  annoyance  of  Der  Grosse  Tenore. 

The  confusion  of  tongues  must  have  been  a  very 
tame  and  quiet  affair  as  compared  to  the  polyglot 
chattering  which  burst  upon  Bobby's  ears  when  he 
entered  the  small  lobby  of  the  Hotel  Larken.  The 
male  members  of  the  Neapolitan  Grand  Opera  Com- 


222    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

pany,  almost  to  a  man,  were  smoking  cigarettes. 
There  were  swarthy  little  men  and  swarthy  big  men, 
there  seeming  to  be  no  medium  sizes  among  them, 
while  the  women  were  the  most  wooden-featured  lot 
that  Bobby  had  ever  encountered,  and  the  entire  crowd 
was  swathed  in  gay  but  dingy  clothing  of  the  most 
nondescript  nature.  Realty,  had  Bobby  not  been 
assured  that  they  were  grand  opera  singers  he  would 
have  taken  them  for  a  lot  of  immigrants,  for  they 
had  that  same  unhappy  expression  of  worry.  The 
principals  could  be  told  from  the  chorus  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  orchestra  from  the  fact  that  they  stood 
aloof  from  the  rest  and  from  one  another,  gloomily 
nursing  their  grievances  that  they,  each  one  the  most 
illustrious  member  of  the  company,  should  thus  be 
put  to  inconvenience !  It  was  a  monstrous  thing  that 
they,  the  possessors  of  glorious  voices  which  the  en- 
tire world  should  at  once  fall  down  and  worship, 
should  be  actually  hungry  and  out  of  money!  It 
was,  oh,  unbelievable,  atrocious,  barbarous,  positively 
inhuman ! 

With  the  entrance  of  the  Signorina  Caravaggio, 
bearing  triumphantly  with  her  the  neatly-dressed 
and  altogether  money-like  Bobby  Burnit,  one  hundred 
and  forty  wistful  eyes,  mostly  black  and  dark  brown, 
were  immediately  focused  in  eager  interest  upon  the 
possible  savior.  Behind  the  desk,  perplexed  and  dis- 


SOME    EMINENT   ARTISTS  223 

tracted  but  still  grimly  firm,  stood  frowzy  Widow 
Larken  herself,  drawn  and  held  to  the  post  of  duty 
by  this  vast  and  unusual  emergency.  Not  one  room 
had  Madam  Larken  saved  for  all  these  alien  warblers, 
not  one  morsel  of  food  had  she  loosed  from  her  ca- 
pacious kitchen ;  and  yet  not  one  member  of  the  com- 
pany had  she  permitted  to  stray  outside  her  doors 
while  Signorina  Caravaggio  and  Signer  Ricardo  and 
the  Herr  Professor  Friihlingsvogel  had  gone  out  to 
secure  an  angel,  two  stout  porters  being  kept  at  the 
front  door  to  turn  back  the  restless.  If  provision 
could  be  made  to  pay  the  bills  of  this  caravan,  the 
Widow  Larken — who  was  shaped  like  a  pillow  with 
a  string  tied  around  it  and  wore  a  face  like  a  huge, 
underdone  apple  dumpling — was  too  good  a  business 
woman  to  overlook  that  opportunity.  Bobby  took 
one  sweeping  glance  at  that  advancing  circle  of  one 
hundred  and  forty  eyes  and  turned  to  Widow  Larken. 

"I  will  be  responsible  for  the  hotel  bills  of  these 
people  until  further  notice,"  said  he. 

The  Widow  Larken,  looking  intently  at  Bobby's 
scarf-pin,  relented  no  whit  in  her  uncompromising 
attitude. 

"And  who  might  you  be?"  she  demanded,  with  a 
calm  brow  and  cold  determination. 

"I  am  Robert  J.  Burnit,"  said  Bobby.  "I'll  give 
you  a  written  order  if  you  like — or  a  check." 


224    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

The  Widow  Larken's  uncompromising  expression 
instantly  melted,  but  she  did  not  smile — she  grinned. 
Bobby  knew  precisely  the  cause  of  that  amused  expres- 
sion, but  if  he  had  needed  an  interpreter,  he  had  one 
at  his  elbow  in  the  person  of  Biff  Bates,  who  looked 
up  at  him  with  a  reflection  of  the  same  grin. 

"They're  all  next  to  you,  Bobby,"  he  observed. 
"The  whole  town  knows  that  you're  the  real  village 
goat." 

The  Widow  Larken  did  not  answer  Bobby  directly. 
She  called  back  to  a  blue-overall-clad  porter  at  the  end 
of  the  lobby: 

"Open  the  dining-room  doors,  Michael." 

Signorina  Caravaggio  immediately  said  a  few  gut- 
tural words  in  German  to  Professor  Friihlingsvogel, 
a  few  limpid  words  in  Italian  to  Signor  Ricardo  a 
few  crisp  words  in  French  to  Madame  Villenauve,  a 
nervous  but  rather  attractive  little  woman  with  pierc- 
ing black  eyes.  The  singers  of  other  languages  did 
not  wait  to  be  informed;  they  joined  the  general 
stampede  toward  the  ravishing  paradise  of  midday 
breakfast,  and  as  the  last  of  them  vacated  the  lobby, 
the  principals  no  whit  behind  the  humble  members  of 
the  chorus  in  crowding  and  jamming  through  that 
doorway,  Bobby  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  Only  the 
Signorina  was  left  to  him,  and  Bobby  hesitated  just 
a  moment  as  it  occurred  to  him  that,  perhaps,  a  more 


SOME    EMINENT   ARTISTS  225 

personal  entertainment  was  expected  by  this  eminent 
songstress.  Biff  Bates,  however,  relieved  him  of  his 
dilemma. 

"While  you're  gone  down  to  see  the  boys  at  the 
Idlers'  Club,"  said  Biff,  "I'm  going  to  take  Miss 
Carry — Miss — Miss — " 

"Caravaggio,"  interrupted  the  Signorina  with  a 
repetition  of  a  laugh  which  had  convinced  Bobby  that, 
after  all,  she  might  be  a  singer,  though  her  speaking 
voice  gave  no  trace  of  it. 

"Carrie  for  mine,"  insisted  Biff  with  a  confident 
grin.  "I'm  going  to  take  Miss  Carrie  out  to  lunch 
some  place  where  they  don't  serve  prunes.  I  guess 
the  Hotel  Spender  will  do  for  us." 

Bobby  surveyed  Biff  with  an  indulgent  smile. 

"Thanks,"  said  he.  "That  will  give  me  time  to 
see  what  I  can  do." 

"You  take  my  advice,  Mr.  Burnit,"  earnestly  inter- 
posed the  Signorina.  "Don't  bother  with  your 
friends.  Go  and  see  the  manager  of  the  Orpheum 
and  ask  him  about  that  open  date.  Ask  him  if  he 
thinks  it  wouldn't  be  a  good  investment  for  you  to 
back  us." 

Biff,  the  conservative ;  Biff,  whose  vote  was  invari- 
ably for  the  negative  on  any  proposition  involving  an 
investment  of  Bobby's  funds,  unexpectedly  added  his 
weight  for  the  affirmative. 


226    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"It's  a  good  stunt,  Bobby.  Go  to  it,"  he  coun- 
seled, and  the  Caravaggio  smiled  down  at  him. 

Again  Bobby  laughed. 

"All  right,  Biff,"  said  he.  "I'll  hunt  up  the  man- 
ager of  the  Orpheum  right  away." 

In  his  machine  he  conveyed  Biff  and  the  prima 
donna  to  the  Hotel  Spender,  and  then  drove  to  the 
Orpheum. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WITH  THE  RELUCTANT  CONSENT  OF  AGNES,  BOBBY  BE- 
COMES  A   PATEON   OF   MUSIC 

THE  manager  of  the  Orpheum  was  a  strange 
evolution.  He  was  a  man  who  had  spent  a 
lifetime  in  the  show  business,  running  first 
a  concert  hall  that  "broke  into  the  papers"  every 
Sunday  morning  with  an  account  of  from  two  to  seven 
fights  the  night  before,  then  an  equally  disreputable 
"burlesque"  house,  the  broad  attractions  of  which 
appealed  to  men  and  boys  only.  To  this,  as  he  made 
money,  he  added  the  cheapest  and  most  blood-curdling 
melodrama  theater  in  town,  then  a  "regular"  house 
of  the  second  grade.  In  his  career  he  had  endured 
two  divorce  cases  of  the  most  unattractive  sort,  and, 
among  quiet  and  conventional  citizens,  was  supposed 
to  have  horns  and  a  barbed  tail  that  snapped  sparks 
where  it  struck  on  the  pavement.  When  he  first  pur- 
chased the  Orpheum  Theater,  the  most  exclusive  play- 
house of  the  city,  he  began  to  appear  in  its  lobby 
every  night  in  a  dinner-coat  or  a  dress-suit,  silk  top- 


228    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

per  and  all,  with  an  almost  modest  diamond  stud  in 
his  white  shirt-front;  and  ladies,  as  they  came  in, 
asked  in  awed  whispers  of  their  husbands:  "Is  that 
Dan  Spratt?"  Some  few  who  had  occasion  to  meet 
him  went  away  gasping:  "Why,  the  man  seems 
really  nice !"  Others  of  "the  profession,"  about  whom 
the  public  never  knew,  spoke  his  name  with  tears  of 
gratitude. 

Mr.  Spratt,  immersed  in  troubles  of  his  own, 
scarcely  looked  up  as  Bobby  entered,  and  only  grunted 
in  greeting. 

"Spratt,"  began  Bobby,  who  knew  the  man  quite 
well  through  "sporting"  events  engineered  by  Biff 
Bates,  "the  Neapolitan  Grand  Opera  Company  is 
stranded  here,  and — " 

"Where  are  they?"  interrupted  Spratt  eagerly,  all 
his  abstraction  gone. 

"At  the  Hotel  Larken,"  began  Bobby  again. 
«j »> 

"Have  they  got  their  props  and  scenery?" 

"Everything,  I  understand,"  said  Bobby.  "I  came 
around  to  see  you — " 

"Who's  running  the  show?"  demanded  Spratt. 

"Their  manager  decamped  with  the  money — with 
what  little  there  was,"  explained  Bobby,  "and  they 
came  to  me  by  accident.  I  understand  you  have  an 
open  date  next  week." 


A    PATRON    OF    MUSIC  229 

"It's  not  open  now,"  declared  Spratt.  "The  date 
is  filled  with  the  Neapolitan  Grand  Opera  Company." 

"There  doesn't  seem  to  be  much  use  of  my  talking, 
then,"  said  Bobby,  smiling. 

"Not  much,"  said  Spratt.  "They're  a  good  com- 
pany, but  I've  noticed  from  the  reports  that  they've 
been  badly  managed.  The  Dago  that  brought  them 
over  didn't  know  the  show  business  in  this  country 
and  tried  to  run  the  circus  himself;  and,  of  course, 
they've  gone  on  the  rocks.  It's  great  luck  that  they 
landed  here.  I  just  heard  a  bit  ago  that  they  were  in 
town.  I  suppose  they're  flat  broke." 

"Why,  yes,"  said  Bobby.  "I  just  went  up  to  the 
Hotel  Larken  and  said  I'd  be  responsible  for  their 
hotel  bill." 

"Oh,"  said  Spratt.  "Then  you're  backing  them 
for  their  week  here." 

"Well,  I'm  not  quite  sure  about  that,"  hesitated 
Bobby. 

"If  you  don't,  I  will,"  offered  Spratt.  "There's 
a  long  line  of  full-dress  Willies  here  that'll  draw  their 
week's  wages  in  advance  to  attend  grand  opera  in 
cabs.  'At  two  and  a  half  for  the  first  sixteen  rows 
they'll  pack  the  house  for  the  week,  and  every  dia- 
mond in  the  hock-shops  will  get  an  airing  for  the  oc- 
casion. But  you  saw  it  first,  Burnit,  and  I  won't 
interfere." 


230    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Well,  I  don't  know,"  Bobby  again  hesitated.  "I 
haven't  fully — " 

"Go  ahead,"  urged  Spratt  heartily.  "It's  your 
pick-up  and  I'll  get  mine.  Hey,  Spencer !" 

A  thin  young  man,  with  hair  so  light  that  he  seemed 
to  have  no  hair  at  all  and  no  eyebrows,  came  in. 

"We've  booked  the  Neapolitan  Grand  Opera  Com- 
pany for  next  week.  Have  they  got  Caravaggio  and 
Ricardo  with  them?"  he  asked,  turning  abruptly 
to  Bobby. 

Bobby,  with  a  smile,  nodded  his  head. 

"All  right,  Spence;  get  busy  on  some  press  stuff 
for  the  afternoon  papers.  You  can  fake  notices 
about  them  from  what  you  know.  Use  two-inch 
streamers  clear  across  the  pages,  then  you  can  get 
some  fresh  stuff  and  the  repertoire  to-night  for  the 
morning  papers.  Play  it  up  strong,  Spence.  Use 
plenty  of  space ;  and,  say,  tell  Billy  to  get  ready  for  a 
three  o'clock  rehearsal.  Now,  Burnit,  let's  go  up  to 
the  Larken  and  make  arrangements." 

"We  might  just  as  well  wait  an  hour,"  counseled 
Bobby.  "The  only  one  I  found  in  the  crowd  who 
could  speak  English  was  Signorina  Caravaggio." 

"I  know  her,"  said  Spratt.  "Her  other  name's 
Nora  McGinnis.  Smart  woman,  too,  and  straight 
as  a  string;  and  sing!  Why,  that  big  ox  can  sing  a 
bird  off  a  tree." 


A    PATRON    OF    MUSIC  231 

"She's  just  gone  over  to  lunch  with  Biff  Bates  at 
the  Spender,"  observed  Bobby,  "and  we'd  better  wait 
for  her.  She  seems  to  be  the  leading  spirit." 

"Of  course  she  is.  Let's  go  right  over  to  the 
Spender." 

Biff  Bates  did  not  seem  overly  pleased  when  his 
tete-a-tete  luncheon  was  interrupted  by  Bobby  and 
Mr.  Spratt,  but  the  Signorina  Nora  very  quickly 
made  it  apparent  that  business  was  business.  Ar- 
rangements were  promptly  made  to  attach  the  car- 
load of  effects  for  back  salaries  due  the  company,  and 
to  lease  these  to  Bobby  for  the  week  for  a  nominal 
sum.  Bobby  was  to  pay  the  regular  schedule  of  sala- 
ries for  that  week  and  make  what  profit  he  could.  A 
rehearsal  of  Carmen  was  to  be  called  that  afternoon 
at  three,  and  a  repertoire  was  arranged. 

Feeling  very  much  exhilarated  after  all  this,  Bobby 
drove  out  in  his  automobile  after  lunch  to  see  Agnes 
Elliston.  He  found  that  young  lady  and  Aunt  Con- 
stance about  to  start  for  a  drive,  their  carriage  being 
already  at  the  door,  but  without  any  ceremony  he 
bundled  them  into  his  machine  instead. 

"Purely  as  my  trustee,"  he  explained,  "Agnes  must 
inspect  my  new  business  venture." 

Aunt  Constance  smiled. 

"The  trusteeship  of  Agnes  hasn't  done  you  very 
much  good  so  far,"  she  observed.  "As  a  matter  of 


232    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

fact,  if  she  wanted  to  build  up  a  reputation  as  an 
expert  trustee,  I  don't  think  she  could  accomplish 
much  by  printing  in  her  circulars  the  details  of  her 
past  stewardship." 

"I  don't  want  her  to  work  up  a  reputation  as  a 
trustee,"  retorted  Bobby.  "She  suits  me  just  as  she 
is,  and  I'm  inclined  to  thank  the  governor  for  having 
loaded  her  down  with  the  job." 

"I'm  becoming  reconciled  to  it  myself,"  admitted 
Agnes,  smiling  up  at  him.  "Really,  I  have  great 
faith  that  one  day  you  will  learn  how  to  take  care  of 
money — if  the  money  holds  out  that  long.  What  is 
the  new  venture,  Bobby  ?" 

He  grinned  quite  cheerfully. 

"I  am  about  to  become  an  angel,"  he  said  quite 
solemnly. 

Aunt  Constance  shook  her  head. 

"No,  Bobby,"  she  said  kindly;  "there  are  spots, 
you  know,  where  angels  fear  to  tread." 

But  Agnes  took  the  declaration  with  no  levity 
whatever. 

"You  don't  mean  in  a  theatrical  sense?"  she 
inquired. 

"In  a  theatrical  sense,"  he  insisted.  "I  am  about 
to  back  the  Neapolitan  Grand  Opera  Company." 

"Why,  Bobby!"  objected  Agnes,  aghast.  "You 
surely  don't  mean  it!  I  never  thought  you  would 


A   PATRON    OF    MUSIC  233 

contemplate  anything  so  preposterous  as  that.  I 
thought  it  was  to  be  only  a  benefit !" 

"It's  only  a  temporary  arrangement,"  he  reassured 
her,  laughing  that  he  had  been  taken  so  seriously. 
"I'm  arranging  so  that  they  can  earn  their  way  out 
of  town ;  that's  all.  I  am  taking  you  down  now  to  see 
their  first  rehearsal." 

"I  don't  care  to  go,"  she  declared,  in  a  tone  so 
piqued  that  Bobby  turned  to  her  in  mute  astonish- 
ment. 

Aunt  Constance  laughed  at  his  look  of  utter  per- 
plexity. 

"How  little  you  understand,  Bobby,"  she  said. 
''Don't  you  see  that  Agnes  is  merely  jealous?" 

"Indeed  not!"  Agnes  indignantly  denied.  "That 
is  an  idea  more  absurd  than  the  fact  that  Bobby 
should  go  into  such  an  enterprise  at  all.  However, 
since  I  lay  myself  open  to  such  a  suspicion  I  shall 
offer  no  further  objection  to  going." 

Bobby  looked  at  her  curiously  and  then  he  carefully 
refrained  from  chuckling,  for  Aunt  Constance, 
though  joking,  had  told  the  truth.  Instant  visions 
of  dazzling  sopranos,  of  mezzos  and  contraltos,  of 
angelic  voices  and  of  vast  beauty  and  exquisite  gown- 
ing, had  flashed  in  appalling  procession  before  her 
mental  vision.  The  idea,  in  the  face  of  the  appalling 
actuality,  was  so  rich  that  Bobby  pursued  it  no 


234    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

further  lest  he  spoil  it,  and  talked  about  the  weather 
and  equally  inane  topics  the  rest  of  the  way. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  turned  into  the  narrow 
alley  at  the  side  of  the  Orpheum,  and  from  that  to  the 
still  more  narrow  alley  at  its  rear,  that  the  zest  of 
adventure  began  to  make  amends  to  Agnes  for  cer- 
tain disagreeable  moments  of  the  ride.  At  the  stage 
door  a  particularly  bewildered-looking  man  with  a 
rolling  eye  and  a  weak  jaw,  rendered  limp  and  help- 
less by  the  polyglot  aliens  who  had  flocked  upon  him, 
strickenly  let  them  in,  to  grope  their  way,  amid  what 
seemed  an  inextricable  confusion,  but  was  in  reality 
the  perfection  of  orderliness,  upon  the  dim  stage, 
beyond  which  stretched,  in  vast  emptiness,  the  big, 
black  auditorium.  Upon  the  stage,  chattering  in 
shrill  voices,  were  the  forty  members  of  the  company, 
still  in  their  queer  clothing,  while  down  in  front, 
where  shaded  lights — seeming  dull  and  discouraged 
amid  all  the  surrounding  darkness — streamed  upon 
the  music,  were  the  members  of  the  orchestra,  chat- 
tering just  as  volubly.  The  general  note  was  quite 
different  in  pitch  from  the  one  Bobby  had  heard  that 
morning,  for  since  he  had  seen  them  the  members 
of  the  organization  had  been  fed,  and  life  looked 
cheerful. 

Wandering  at  a  loss  among  these  people,  and  try- 
ing in  the  dim  twilight  to  find  some  face  that  he  knew, 


A    PATRON    OF    MUSIC  235 

the  ears  of  Bobby  and  his  party  were  suddenly  as- 
sailed by  an  extremely  harsh  and  penetrating  voice 
which  shouted: 

"Clear!" 

This  was  accompanied  by  a  sharp  clap  from  a  pair 
of  very  broad  hands.  The  chattering  suddenly  took 
on  a  rapid  crescendo,  ascending  a  full  third  in  the 
scale  and  then  dying  abruptly  in  a  little  high  falsetto 
shriek;  and  Bobby,  with  a  lady  upon  either  arm, 
found  his  little  trio  immediately  alone  in  the  center 
of  the  stage,  a  row  of  dim  footlights  cutting  off 
effectually  any  view  into  the  vast  emptiness  of  the 
auditorium. 

"Hey,  you;  clear!"  came  the  harsh  voice  again, 
accompanied  by  another  sharp  clap  of  the  hands,  and 
a  bundle  of  intense  fighting  energy  bounced  out  from 
the  right  tormentor  wing,  in  the  shape  of  a  gaunt, 
fiercely-mustached  and  entirely  bald  man  of  about 
forty-five,  who  appeared  perpetually  to  be  in  the  last 
stages  of  distraction. 

"Who  do  you  weesh  to  see?"  demanded  the  gaunt 
man,  in  a  very  decided  foreign  accent.  He  had  made 
a  very  evident  attempt  to  be  quite  polite  indeed,  and 
forgiving  of  people  who  did  not  know  enough  to 
spring  for  the  wings  at  the  sound  of  that  magic 
word,  "Clear!" 

Any  explanations  that  Bobby  might  have  tried  to 


236    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

make  were  happily  prevented  by  a  voice  from  the 
yawning  blackness — a  quiet  voice,  a  voice  of  author- 
ity, the  voice  of  Mr.  Spratt. 

"Come  right  down  in  front  here,  Burnit.  Jimmy, 
show  the  gentleman  how  to  get  down." 

"Thees  way,"  snapped  the  gaunt  man,  with  evident 
relief  but  no  abatement  whatever  of  his  briskness, 
and  he  very  hastily  walked  over  to  the  right  wings, 
where  Jimmy,  the  house  electrician,  piloted  the  trio 
with  equal  relief  through  the  clustered  mass  of  sing- 
ers to  the  door  behind  the  boxes.  As  they  emerged 
into  the  auditorium  the  raucous  voice  of  the  gaunt 
man  was  heard  to  shout:  "All  ready  now.  Carmen 
all  ze  way  through."  An  apparent  repetition  of 
which  statement  he  immediately  made  with  equal 
raucousness  in  two  or  three  languages.  There  was  a 
call  to  Caravaggio  in  English,  to  Ricardo  and  the 
Signors  Fivizzano  and  Rivaroli  in  Italian,  to  Messrs. 
Philippi  and  Schaerbeeken  in  Spanish  and  Dutch,  to 
Madam  Villenauve  in  French,  to  Madam  Kadanoff  in 
Russian,  and  to  Mademoiselle  Torok  in  Hungarian, 
to  know  if  they  were  ready;  then,  in  rough  but 
effective  German,  he  informed  the  Herr  Professor 
down  in  the  orchestra  that  all  was  prepared,  clapped 
his  hands,  cried  "Overture,"  and  immediately  plunged 
to  the  right  upper  entrance,  marked  by  two  chairs, 
where,  with  shrill  objurgations,  he  began  instructing 


A   PATRON    OF   MUSIC  237 

and  drilling  the  Soldiers'  Chorus  out  of  certain  re- 
membered awkwardnesses,  as  Herr  Friihlingsvogel's 
baton  fell  for  the  overture. 

Shorn  of  all  the  glamor  that  scenic  environment, 
light  effects  and  costume  could  give  them,  it  was  a 
distinct  shock  to  Agnes  to  gaze  in  wondering  horror 
from  each  one  of  those  amazing  faces  to  the  other, 
and  when  the  cigarette  girls  trooped  out,  amazement 
gave  way  to  downright  consternation.  Nevertheless, 
she  cheered  up  considerably,  and  the  apex  of  her 
cheerfulness  was  reached  when  the  oversized  Sig- 
norina  Caravaggio  sang,  very  musically,  however, 
the  role  of  the  petite  and  piquant  Carmen.  It  was 
then  that,  sitting  by  Bobby  in  the  darkness,  Agnes 
observed  with  a  sigh  of  content: 

"Your  trustee  quite  approves,  Bobby.  I  don't 
mind  being  absolutely  truthful  for  once  in  my  life. 
I  was  a  little  jealous.  But  how  could  I  be?  Really, 
their  voices  are  fine." 

Mr.  Spratt,  too,  was  of  that  opinion,  and  he 
came  back  to  Bobby  to  say  so  most  emphatically. 

"They'll  do,"  said  he.  "After  the  first  night 
they'll  have  this  town  crazy.  If  the  seat  sale  don't  go 
right  for  Monday  we'll  pack  the  house  with  paper, 
and  the  rest  of  the  week  will  go  big.  Just  hear  that 
Ricardo !  The  little  bit  of  a  sawed-off  toad  sings  like 
a  canary.  If  you  don't  look  at  'em,  they're  great." 


238    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

They  were  superb.  From  the  throats  of  that  ill- 
favored  chorus  there  came  divine  harmony,  smooth, 
evenly-balanced,  exhilarating,  almost  flawless,  and  as 
the  great  musical  poem  of  passion  unfolded  and  the 
magnificent  aria  of  Don  Jose  was  finished  in  the  sec- 
ond act,  the  little  group  of  listeners  down  in  front 
burst  into  involuntary  applause,  to  which  there  was 
but  one  dissenting  voice.  This  voice,  suddenly  evolv- 
ing out  of  the  darkness  at  Bobby's  side,  ejaculated 
with  supreme  disgust: 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that!  Why,  that  fat 
little  fishworm  of  a  Dago  is  actually  gone  bug-house 
over  Miss  McGinnis,"  a  fact  which  had  been  obvious 
to  all  of  them  the  minute  small  Ricardo  began  to 
sing  his  wonderful  love  song  to  large  Caravaggio. 

The  rest  of  them  had  found  only  amusement  in  the 
fact,  but  to  Biff  Bates  there  was  nothing  funny  about 
this.  He  sat  in  speechless  disapproval  throughout 
the  balance  of  that  much-interrupted  performance, 
wherein  Professor  Friihlingsvogel,  now  and  then, 
stopped  his  music  with  a  crash  to  shriek  an  excited 
direction  that  it  was  all  wrong,  that  it  was  execrable, 
that  it  was  a  misdemeanor,  a  crime,  a  murder  to  sing 
it  in  that  way  !  The  passage  must  be  all  sung  over ; 
or,  at  other  times,  the  gaunt  stage  director,  whose 
name  was  Monsieur  Noire,  would  rush  with  a  hoarse 
howl  down  to  Herr  Professor,  order  him  to  stop  the 


A    PATRON    OF    MUSIC  239 

music,  and,  turning,  berate  some  unfortunate  per- 
former who  had  defied  the  conventions  of  grand  opera 
by  acting  quite  naturally.  On  the  whole,  however,  it 
was  a  very  creditable  performance,  and  Bobby's  ad- 
visers gave  the  project  their  unqualified  approval. 

"It  is  really  a  commendable  tiling,"  Aunt  Con- 
stance complacently  announced,  "to  encourage  music 
of  this  order,  and  to  furnish  such  a  degree  of  culti- 
vation for  the  masses." 

It  was  a  worthy  project  indeed.  As  for  the  com- 
pany itself  there  could  be  no  question  that  it  was  a 
good  one.  No  one  expected  acting  in  grand  opera, 
no  one  expected  that  the  performers  would  be  phys- 
ically adaptable  to  their  parts.  The  voice!  The 
voice  was  all.  Even  Agnes  admitted  that  it  was  a 
splendid  thing  to  be  a  patron  of  the  fine  arts;  but 
Bobby,  in  his  profound  new  wisdom  and  his  thorough 
conversion  to  strictly  commercial  standards,  said  with 
vast  iconoclasm: 

"You  are  overlooking  the  main  point.  I  am  not  so 
anxious  to  become  a  patron  of  the  fine  arts  as  I  am 
to  make  money,"  with  which  terrible  heresy  he  left 
them  at  home,  with  a  thorough  understanding  that  he 
was  quite  justified  in  his  new  venture;  though  next 
morning,  when  he  confided  the  fact  to  Johnson,  that 
worthy,  with  a  sigh,  presented  him  with  an  appropri- 
ate missive  from  among  those  in  the  gray  envelopes 


240    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

left  in  his  care  by  the  late  John  Burnit.    It  was  in- 
scribed : 

To  My  Son  Robert,  Upon  His  Deciding  to  Back  a 
Theatrical  Venture 

"Sooner  or  later,  every  man  thinks  it  would  be  a 
fine  thing  to  run  a  show,  and  the  earlier  in  life  it  hap- 
pens the  sooner  a  man  will  have  it  out  of  his  system. 
I  tried  it  once  myself,  and  I  know.  So  good  luck  to 
you,  my  boy,  and  here's  hoping  that  you  don't  get 
stung  too  badly." 


CHAPTER  XX 

STILL    WITH     THE    EELUCTANT    CONSENT     OF     AGNES, 
BOBBY  INVESTS  IN  THE  FINE  AETS 

THAT  week's  "season  of  grand  opera"  was  an 
unqualified  success,  following  closely  the 
lines  laid  down  by  the  experienced  Mr. 
Spratt.  Caravaggio  and  Ricardo  and  Philippi  and 
Villenauve  became  household  words,  after  the  Monday 
night  performance  of  Carmen,  and  for  the  balance 
of  the  week  shining  carriages  rolled  up  to  the  entrance 
of  the  Orpheum,  disgorging  load  after  load  of  high- 
hatted  gentlemen  and  long-plumed  ladies.  Before  the 
end  of  the  engagement  it  was  definitely  known  that 
Bobby's  investment  would  yield  a  profit,  even  deduct- 
ing for  the  days  of  idleness  during  which  he  had  been 
compelled  to  support  the  rehearsing  company.  The 
powers  of  darkness  thereupon  set  vigorously  to  work 
upon  him  to  carry  the  company  on  through  the  rest 
of  its  season. 

It  was  then  that  the  storm  broke.  Against  his 
going  further  with  the  company  Agnes  Elliston  in- 
terposed an  objection  so  decided  and  so  unflattering 


242    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

that  the  entente  cordlale  at  the  Elliston  home  was 
strained  dangerously  near  to  the  breaking  point,  and 
in  this  she  was  aided  and  abetted  by  Aunt  Constance, 
who  ridiculed  him,  and  by  Uncle  Dan  Elliston,  who 
took  him  confidentially  for  a  grave  and  hardheaded 
remonstrance.  Chalmers,  Johnson,  and  even  Apple- 
rod  wrestled  with  him  in  spirit;  his  friends  at  the 
Idlers'  Club  "guyed"  him  unmercifully,  and  even  Biff 
Bates,  though  his  support  was  earnestly  sought  by 
the  Signorina  Caravaggio,  also  counseled  him  roughly 
against  it,  and  through  it  all  Bobby  was  made  to  feel 
that  he  was  a  small  boy  who  had  proposed  to  eat  a 
peck  of  green  apples  and  then  go  in  swimming  in  dog- 
days.  Another  note  from  his  father,  handed  to  him 
by  the  faithful  and  worried  Johnson,  was  the  deciding 
straw : 

To  My  Son  Robert,  About  That  Theatrical  Venture 

"When  a  man  who  knows  nothing  of  the  business 
backs  a  show,  there's  usually  a  woman  at  the  bottom  of 
it — and  that  kind  of  woman  is  mostly  rank  poison  to 
a  normal  man,  even  if  she  is  a  good  woman.  No  butter- 
fly ever  goes  back  into  its  chrysalis  and  becomes  a 
grub  again.  Let  birds  of  a  feather  flock  together, 
Bobby." 

That  unfortunate  missive,  for  once  shooting  so  wide 
the  mark,  pushed  Bobby  over  the  edge.  There  was 


A   FINE    ARTS    INVESTMENT        243 

a  streak  of  stubbornness  in  him  which,  well  developed 
and  turned  into  proper  channels,  was  likely  to  be  very 
valuable,  but  until  he  learned  to  use  that  stubborn- 
ness in  the  right  way  it  bade  fair  to  plunge  him  into 
more  difficulties  than  he  could  extricate  himself  from 
with  profit.  Even  Agnes,  reading  that  note,  indig- 
nantly agreed  with  Bobby  that  he  was  being  unjustly 
misread. 

"It  is  absurd,"  he  explained  to  her.  "This  is  the 
first  dividend-paying  investment  I  have  been  able  to 
make  so  far,  and  I'm  going  to  keep  it  up  just  as  long 
as  I  can  make  money  out  of  it.  I'd  be  very  foolish  if 
I  didn't.  Besides,  this  is  just  a  little  in-between  flyer, 
while  I'm  conservatively  waiting  for  a  good,  legiti- 
mate opening.  It  can  take,  at  most,  but  a  very  small 
part  of  my  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand. 

Agnes,  though  defending  him  against  his  father, 
was  still  reluctant  about  the  trip,  but  suddenly,  with 
a  curious  smile,  she  withdrew  all  objections  and  even 
urged  him  to  go  ahead. 

"Bobby,"  said  she,  still  with  that  curious  smile  and 
strangely  shining  eyes,  and  putting  both  her  hands 
upon  his  shoulders,  "I  see  that  you  must  go  ahead 
with  this.  I — I  guess  it  will  be  good  for  you.  Some- 
how, I  think  that  this  is  to  be  your  last  folly,  that 
you  are  really  learning  that  the  world  is  not  all  polo 
and  honor-bets.  So  go  ahead — and  I'll  wait  here." 


244    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BUBNIT 

He  could  not  know  how  much  that  hurt  her.  He 
only  knew,  after  she  had  talked  more  lightly  of  his 
trip,  that  he  had  her  full  and  free  consent,  and, 
highly  elated  with  his  first  successful  business  ven- 
ture, he  took  up  the  contracts  of  the  Neapolitan 
Grand  Opera  Company  where  Signor  Matteo,  the  de- 
camped manager  and  producer,  had  dropped  them. 
The  members  of  the  company  having  attached  the 
scenery  and  effects  for  back  salaries,  sold  them  to 
Bobby  for  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  he  immediately 
found  himself  confronted  by  demands  for  settlements, 
with  the  alternative  of  damage  suits,  from  the  two 
cities  in  which  the  company  had  been  booked  for  the 
two  past  weeks. 

Had  Bobby  not  bound  himself  irrevocably  to  con- 
tracts which  made  him  liable  for  the  salaries  of 
every  member  of  this  company  for  the  next  twenty 
weeks,  he  would  have  withdrawn  instantly  at  the 
first  hint  of  these  suits ;  but,  now  that  he  was  in  for 
it,  he  promptly  compromised  them  at  a  rate  which 
made  Spratt  furious. 

"If  I'd  thought,"  said  Spratt  angrily  in  the  priv- 
acy of  the  Orpheum  office,  "that  you  were  sucker 
enough  to  get  roped  in  for  the  full  season,  I'd  have 
tossed  you  out  of  the  running  for  this  week.  This 
game  is  a  bigger  gamble  than  the  Stock  Exchange. 
The  smartest  producers  in  the  business  never  know 


A   FINE    ARTS    INVESTMENT        245 

when  they  have  a  winner  or  a  loser.  More  than 
that,  while  all  actors  are  hard  to  handle,  of  all  the 
combinations  on  earth,  a  grand  opera  company  is 
the  worst.  I'll  bet  a  couple  of  cold  bottles  that 
before  you're  a  week  on  the  road  you'll  have  leaks 
in  your  dirigible  over  some  crazy  dramatic  stunts 
that  are  not  in  the  book  of  any  opera  of  the  Nea- 
politan repertoire." 

The  prediction  was  so  true  that  it  was  proved 
that  very  night,  which  was  Friday,  during  the  repe*1 
tition  of  Carmen.  It  seemed  that  Biff  Bates,  by 
means  of  the  supreme  dominance  of  the  Caravaggio, 
had  been  made  free  of  the  stage,  a  rare  privilege, 
and  one  that  enabled  Biff  to  spend  his  time,  under 
unusual  and  romantic  circumstances,  very  much  in 
the  company  of  the  Celtic  Signorina;  all  of  which 
was  very  much  to  the  annoyance,  distress  and  fury 
of  Signor  Ricardo,  especially  on  Carmen  night.  At 
all  other  times  the  great  Ricardo  thought  very  well 
indeed  of  the  Signorina  Nora,  only  being  in  any 
degree  near  to  unfaithfulness  when,  on  'Aida  nights, 
he  sang  to  vivacious  little  Madam  Villenauve ;  but  on 
Carmen  nights  he  was  devotedly,  passionately, 
madly  in  love  with  the  divine  Car-r-r-r-avaggio ! 
Else  how  could  he  sing  the  magnificent  second  act 
aria?  Life  without  her  on  those  nights  would  be  a 
hollow  mockery,  the  glance  of  any  possible  rival  in 


246    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

her  direction  a  desecration.  Why,  he  even  had  to 
restrain  himself  to  keep  from  doing  actual  damage 
to  Philippi,  who,  though  on  the  shady  side  of  forty- 
five,  still  sang  a  most  dashing  Escamillo;  nor  was 
his  jealousy  less  poignant  because  Philippi  and  Cara- 
vaggio  were  sworn  enemies. 

Thus  it  may  be  understood — by  any  one,  at  least, 
who  has  ever  loved  ecstatically  and  fervidly  and  even 
hectically,  like  the  great  Ricardo — how  on  Monday 
and  Wednesday  nights  and  the  Thursday  matinee, 
all  of  which  were  Caravaggio  performances,  he  re- 
sented Biff's  presence.  From  dark  corners  he  more 
darkly  watched  them  chatting  in  frank  enjoyment 
of  each  other's  company ;  he  made  unexpected  darts 
in  front  of  their  very  eyes  to  greet  them  with  the 
most  alarming  scowls;  and  because  he  insolently 
brushed  the  shoulder  of  the  peaceably  inclined  and 
self -sure  Biff  upon  divers  occasions,  and  Biff  made 
no  sign  of  resentment,  he  imagined  that  Biff  trem- 
bled in  his  boots  whenever  he  noted  the  approach 
of  the  redoubtable  Ricardo  with  his  infinitesimal  but 
ferocious  mustachios.  Great,  then,  was  his  wonder, 
to  say  nothing  of  his  rage,  when  Biff,  after  all  the 
scowls  and  shoulderings  that  he  had  received  on 
Thursday,  actually  came  around  for  Friday  night's 
Carmen  performance! 

Even  before  the  fierce  Ricardo  had  gone  into  his 


A   FINE    ARTS    INVESTMENT        247 

dressing-room  he  was  already  taking  upon  himself 
the  deadly  character  of  Don  Jose,  and  his  face 
surged  red  with  fury  when  he  saw  Biff  Bates,  gaily 
laughing  as  if  no  doom  impended,  come  in  at  the 
stage  door  with  the  equally  gay  and  care-free  Cara- 
vaggio.  But  after  Signor  Ricardo  had  donned  the 
costume  and  the  desperateness  of  the  brigadier  Don 
Jose — it  was  then  that  the  fury  sank  into  his  soul! 
And  that  fury  boiled  and  seethed  as,  during  the  first 
and  second  acts,  he  found  in  the  wings  Signorina 
Car-r-r-r-r-r-avaggio  absorbed  in  pleasant  but  very 
significant  chat  with  his  deadly  enemy,  the  crude,  un- 
musical, inartistic,  soulless  Biffo  de  Bates-s-s-s !  But, 
ah!  There  was  another  act  to  come,  the  third  act, 
at  the  beginning  of  which  the  property  man  handed 
him  the  long,  sharp,  wicked-looking,  bloodthirsty 
knife  with  which  he  was  to  fight  Escamillo,  and  with 
which  in  the  fourth  act  he  was  to  kill  Carmen.  The 
mere  possession  of  that  knife  wrought  the  great 
tenor's  soul  to  gory  tragedy ;  so  much  so  that  imme- 
diately after  the  third  act  curtain  calls  he  rushed 
directly  to  the  spot  where  he  knew  the  contemptible 
Signor  Biffo  de  Bates-s-s-s  to  be  standing,  and  with 
shrill  Latin  imprecations  flourished  that  keen,  glisten- 
ing blade  before  the  eyes  of  the  very  much  astounded 
Biff. 

For  a  moment,  thoroughly   incredulous,   Biff  re- 


248    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BTJRNIT 

fused  to  believe  it,  until  a  second  demonstration  com- 
pelled him  to  acknowledge  that  the  great  Ricardo 
actually  meant  threatening  things  toward  himself. 
When  this  conviction  forced  its  way  upon  him,  Biff 
calmly  reached  out,  and,  with  a  grip  very  much  like 
a  bear-trap,  seized  Signor  Ricardo  by  the  forearm 
of  the  hand  which  held  the  knife.  With  his  unen- 
gaged hand  Biff  then  smacked  the  Signor  Ricardo 
right  severely  on  the  wrist. 

"You  don't  mean  it,  you  know,  Sig-nor  Garlic," 
he  calmly  observed.  "If  I  thought  you  did  I'd 
smack  you  on  both  wrists.  Why,  you  little  red 
balloon,  I  ain't  afraid  of  any  mutt  on  earth  that 
carries  a  knife  like  that,  as  long  as  I  got  my  back 
to  the  wall." 

Still  holding  the  putty-like  Signor  by  the  forearm, 
he  delicately  abstracted  from  his  clasp  the  huge  knife, 
and,  folding  it  up  gravely,  handed  it  back  to  him; 
then  deliberately  he  turned  his  back  on  the  Signor 
and  pushed  his  way  through  the  delightedly  horror- 
stricken  emotionalists  who  had  gathered  at  the  fray, 
and  strolled  over  to  where  Signorina  Caravaggio  had 
stood  an  interested  and  mirth-shaken  observer. 

"You  mustn't  think  all  Italians  are  like  that,  Biff," 
she  said,  her  first  impulse,  as  always,  to  see  justice 
done;  "but  singers  are  a  different  breed.  I  don't 
think  he's  bluffing,  altogether.  If  he  got  a  real  good 


A   FINE    ARTS    INVESTMENT        249 

chance  some  place  in  the  dark,  and  was  sure  that  he 
wouldn't  be  caught,  he  might  use  a  stiletto  on  you." 

"If  he  ever  does  Til  slap  his  forehead,"  said  Biff. 
"But  say,  he  uses  that  cleaver  again  in  the  show?" 

The  Signorina  Nora  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"He's  supposed  to  stab  me  with  it  in  this  next 
act." 

"He  is!"  exclaimed  Biff.  "Well,  just  so  he  don't 
make  any  mistake  I'm  going  over  and  paste  him 
one." 

It  was  not  necessary,  for  Signer  Ricardo,  after 
studying  the  matter  over  and  seeing  no  other  way 
out  of  it,  proceeded  to  have  a  fit.  No  one,  not  even 
the  illustrious  Signer,  could  tell  just  how  much  of 
that  fit  was  deliberate  and  artificial,  and  just  how 
much  was  due  to  an  overwrought  sensitive  organiza- 
tion, but  certain  it  was  that  the  Signer  Ricardo  was 
quite  unable  to  go  on  with  the  performance,  and 
Monsieur  Noire  himself,  as  agitated  as  a  moment 
before  the  great  Ricardo  had  been,  frantically  rushed 
up  to  Biff  and  grabbed  him  roughly  by  the  shoul- 
ders. 

"Too  long,"  shrieked  he,  "we  have  let  you  be  an- 
noying the  artists,  by  reason  of  the  Caravaggio. 
But  now  you  shall  do  the  skidooing." 

With  a  laugh  Biff  looked  back  over  his  shoulder 
at  the  Caravaggio,  and  permitted  Monsieur  Noire 


250    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

to  eject  him  bodily  from  the  stage  door  upon  the 
alley. 

The  next  morning,  owing  to  the  prompt  action 
and  foresightedness  of  Spratt,  all  the  papers  con- 
tained the  very  pretty  story  that  the  great  Ricardo 
had  succumbed  to  his  own  intensity  of  emotions  after 
the  third  act  of  Carmen,  and  had  been  unable  to  go 
on,  giving  way  to  the  scarcely  less  great  Signor 
Dulceo.  That  same  morning  Bobby  was  confronted 
by  the  first  of  a  long  series  of  similar  dilemmas. 
The  Signorina  Caravaggio  must  leave  the  company 
or  Signor  Ricardo  would  do  so.  No  stage  was  big 
enough  to  hold  the  two ;  moreover,  Ricardo  meant  to 
have  the  heart's  blood  of  Signor  Biffo  de  Bates-s-s-s ! 

With  a  sigh,  Bobby,  out  of  his  ignorance  and  inde- 
pendence, took  the  only  possible  course  to  preserve 
peace,  and  emphatically  told  Signor  Ricardo  to  pack 
up  and  go  as  quickly  as  possible,  which  he  went 
away  vowing  to  do.  Naturally  the  great  tenor 
thought  better  of  it  after  that,  and  though  he  had 
already  been  dropped  from  the  cast  of  II  Trovatore 
on  Saturday  afternoon,  he  reported  just  the  same. 
And  he  went  on  with  the  company. 

It  was  not  until  they  went  upon  the  road,  how- 
ever, that  Bobby  fully  realized  what  a  lot  of  irre- 
sponsible, fretful,  peevish  children  he  had  upon  his 
hands.  With  the  exception  of  serene  Nora  McGin- 


A    FINE    ARTS    INVESTMENT        251 

nis,  every  one  of  the  principals  was  at  daggers 
drawn  with  all  the  others,  sulking  over  the  least  ad- 
vantage obtained  by  any  one  else,  and  accepting  ad- 
vantage of  their  own  as  only  a  partial  payment  of 
their  supreme  rank.  The  one  most  at  war  with  her 
own  world  was  Madam  Villenauve,  whose  especial  bete 
noire  was  the  MeeGeenees,  whom,  by  no  possibility, 
could  she  ever  under  any  circumstance  be  induced  to 
call  Caravaggio. 

On  the  second  day  of  their  next  engagement,  as 
Bobby  strode  through  the  corridor  of  the  hotel, 
shortly  after  luncheon,  he  was  stopped  by  Madam 
Villenauve,  who  had  been  waiting  for  him  in  the  door 
of  her  room.  She  was  herself  apparently  just  dress- 
ing to  go  out,  for  her  coiffure  was  made  and  she  had 
on  a  short  underskirt,  a  kimono-like  dressing- jacket 
and  her  street  shoes. 

"I  wish  to  speak  wiz  you  on  some  beezness,  Mees- 
ter  Burnit,"  she  told  him  abruptly,  and  with  an 
imperatively  beckoning  hand  stepped  back  with  a  bow 
for  him  to  enter. 

With  just  a  moment  of  surprised  hesitation  he 
stepped  into  the  room,  whereupon  the  Villenauve 
promptly  closed  the  door.  A  week  before  Bobby 
would  have  been  a  trifle  astonished  by  this  proceed- 
ing, but  in  that  week  he  had  seen  so  many  examples 
of  unconscious  unconventionalities  in  and  about  the 


252    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

dressing-rooms  and  at  the  hotel,  that  he  had  read- 
justed his  point  of  view  to  meet  the  peculiar  way  of 
life  of  these  people,  and,  as  usual  with  readjustments, 
had  readjusted  himself  too  far.  He  found  the  room 
in  a  litter,  with  garments  of  all  sorts  cast  about  in 
reckless  disorder. 

"I  have  been  seeing  you  last  night,"  began  Ma- 
dam Villenauve,  shaking  her  finger  at  him  archly 
as  she  swept  some  skirts  off  a  chair  for  him  to  sit 
down,  and  then  took  her  place  before  her  dressing- 
table,  where  she  added  the  last  deft  touch  to  her 
coiffure.  "I  have  been  seeing  you  smiling  at  ze 
reedeec'lous  Carmen.  Oh,  la,  la !  Carmen !"  she 
shrilled.  "It  is  I,  monsieur,  I  zat  am  ze  Carmen. 
It  was  zis  Matteo,  the  scoundrel  who  run  away  wiz 
our  money,  zat  allow  le  Ricardo  to  say  whom  he  like 
to  sing  to  for  Carmen.  Ricardo  ees  in  loaf  wiz  la 
MeeGeenees.  Le  Ricardo  is  a  fool,  so  zis  Ricardo 
sing  Carmen  ever  tarn  to  ze  great,  grosse  monstair 
MeeGeenees ;  an'  ever'body  zey  laugh.  Ze  chorus 
laugh,  ze  principals  laugh,  le  Monsieur  Noire  he 
laugh,  even  zat  Friihlingsvogel  zat  have  no  humair, 
he  laugh,  an'  ze  audience  laugh,  an'  las'  night  I  am 
seeing  you  laugh.  Ees  eet  not  so?  Mais!  It  is 
absurd!  It  is  reedeec'lous.  Le  Ricardo  make  fool 
over  la  MeeGeenees.  7  sing  ze  Carmen!  I  am  ze 
Carmen!  You  hear  me  sing  Ai'da?  Eet  ees  zat  way. 


A    FINE    ARTS    INVESTMENT        253' 

I  sing  Carmen.     Now  I  s'all  sing  Carmen  again! 
Ees  eet  not  ?" 

As  Madam  Villenauve  talked,  punctuating  her  re- 
marks with  quick,  impatient  little  gestures,  she  jerked 
off  her  dressing- jacket  and  threw  it  on  the  floor,  and 
Bobby  saved  himself  from  panic  by  reminding  him- 
self that  her  frank  anatomical  display  was,  in  the 
peculiar  ethics  of  these  people,  no  more  to  be  noticed 
than  if  she  were  in  an  evening  gown,  which  was  very 
reasonable,  after  all,  once  you  understood  the  code. 
Still  voicing  her  indignation  at  having  been  dis- 
placed in  the  role  of  Carmen  by  the  utterly  impos- 
sible and  preposterous  Caravaggio,  she  caught  up 
her  waist  and  was  about  to  slip  it  on,  while  Bobby, 
with  an  amused  smile,  reflected  that  presently  he 
would  no  doubt  be  nonchalantly  requested  to  hook 
it  in  the  back,  when  some  one  tried  the  door-knob. 
A  knock  followed  and  Madam  Villenauve  went  to 
the  door. 

|     "Who  ees  it?"  she  asked  with  her  hand  on  the 
knob. 

"It  is  I;  Monsieur  Noire,"  was  the  reply. 

"Oh,  la,  come  in,  zen,"  she  invited,  and  threw  open 
the  door. 

Monsieur  Noire  entered,  but,  finding  Bobby  in 
the  chair  by  the  dresser,  stopped  uncertainly  in  the 
doorway. 


254    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Oh,  come  on  een,"  she  gaily  invited;  "we  are  all 
ze  good  friends ;  oui?" 

It  appeared  that  Monsieur  Noire  came  in  all  po- 
liteness, yet  with  rigid  intention,  to  inquire  about 
a  missing  piece  of  music  from  the  score  of  Les 
Huguenots,  and  Madam  Villenauve,  in  all  politeness 
and  yet  with  much  indignation,  assured  him  that 
she  did  not  have  it ;  whereupon  Monsieur  Noire,  with 
all  politeness  but  cold  insistence,  demanded  that  she 
look  for  it;  whereupon  Madam  Villenauve,  though 
once  more  protesting  that  she  had  it  not,  in  all  polite- 
ness and  yet  with  considerable  asperity,  declared 
that  she  would  not  search  for  it;  whereupon  Mon- 
sieur Noire,  observing  the  piece  of  music  in  question 
peeping  out  from  beneath  a  conglomerate  pile  of 
newspapers,  clothing  and  toilet  articles,  laid  hands 
upon  it  and  departed.  Madam  Villenauve,  entirely 
unruffled  now  that  it  was  all  over,  but  still  chatter- 
ing away  with  great  volubility  about  the  crime  of 
Carmen,  finished  her  dressing  and  bade  Bobby  hook 
the  back  of  her  waist,  and  by  sheer  calmness  and 
certainty  of  intention  forced  him  to  accompany  her 
over  to  rehearsal. 

Whatever  annoyance  he  might  have  felt  over  this 
was  lost  in  his  amusement  when  he  reached  the  the- 
ater in  finding  Biff  Bates  upon  the  stage  waiting 
for  him ;  and  Biff,  while  waiting,  was  quite  excusably 


A   FINE    ARTS    INVESTMENT        255 

whiling  the  time  away  with  the  adorable  Miss  Mc- 
Ginnis. 

"You  see,  Young  Fitz  lives  here,"  Biff  brazenly 
explained,  "and  I  run  up  to  see  him  about  that  ex- 
hibition night  I'm  going  to  have  at  the  gym.  I'm 
going  to  have  him  go  on  with  Kid  Jeffreys." 

"Biff,"  said  Bobby  warmly,  "I  want  to  congratu- 
late you  on  your  business  enterprise.  Have  you  seen 
Young  Fitz  yet?" 

"Well,  no,"  confessed  Biff.  "I  just  got  here  about 
an  hour  ago.  I  didn't  know  your  hotel,  but  it  was 
a  cinch  from  the  bills  to  tell  where  the  show  was, 
so  I  came  right  around  to  the  theater  to  see  you  first." 

"Exactly,"  admitted  Bobby.  "Do  you  expect  to 
see  Young  Fitz?" 

"Well,  maybe,  if  I  get  time,"  said  Biff  with  a 
sheepish  grin.  "Just  now  I'm  going  out  for  a  drive 
with  Miss  McGinnis." 

"Caravaggio,"  corrected  that  young  lady  with  a 
laugh. 

"McGinnis  for  mine,"  declared  Biff.  "By  the  way, 
Bobby,  I  saw  a  certain  party  before  I  left  town  and 
she  gave  me  this  letter  for  you.  Certain  party  is  as 
cheerful  as  a  chunk  of  lead  about  your  trip,  Bobby, 
but  she  makes  the  swellest  bluff  I  ever  saw  that  she's 
tickled  to  death  with  it." 

With  this  vengeful  shot  in  retaliation  for  his  ex- 


256    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

cuse  about  Young  Fitz  having  been  doubted  he  sailed 
away  with  the  Caravaggio,  who,  though  required 
to  report  at  every  rehearsal,  was  not  in  the  cast  for 
that  night  and  was  readily  excused  from  further  at- 
tendance. Since  Bobby  had  received  a  very  pleasant 
letter  from  Agnes  when  he  got  up  that  morning  he 
opened  this  missive  with  a  touch  of  curiosity  added 
to  the  thrill  with  which  he  always  took  in  his  hands 
any  missive,  no  matter  how  trivial,  from  her.  It  was 
but  a  brief  note  calling  attention  to  the  enclosed 
newspaper  clipping,  and  wishing  him  success  in  his 
new  venture.  The  clipping  was  a  flamboyant  article 
describing  the  decision  of  the  city  council  to  install 
a  magnificent  new  ten-million-dollar  waterworks  sys- 
tem, and  the  personally  interesting  item  in  it,  ringed 
around  with  a  pencil  mark,  was  that  Silas  Trimmer 
had  been  appointed  by  Mayor  Garland  as  president 
of  the  waterworks  commission. 

It  was  not  news  that  could  alter  his  fortunes  in 
any  way  so  far  as  he  could  see,  but  it  did  remind 
him,  with  a  strange  whipping  of  his  conscience,  that, 
after  all,  his  place  was  back  home,  and  that  his  proper 
employment  should  be  the  looking  after  his  home 
interests.  For  the  first  time  he  began  to  have  a  dim 
realization  that  a  man's  place  was  among  his  enemies, 
where  he  could  watch  them. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

WHEREIN    THE    FINE    ARTS    PRESENT    BOBBY    WITH    A 
MOST    EMBARRASSING    DILEMMA 

IT  HAD  become  by  no  means  strange  to  Bobby, 
even  before  the  company  "took  the  road,"  that 
some  one  of  the  principals  should  attach  them- 
selves to  him  in  all  his  possible  goings  and  comings, 
for  each  and  every  one  of  them  had  some  complaint 
to  make  about  all  the  others.  They  wanted  read- 
justments of  cast,  better  parts  to  sing,  better  dress- 
ing-rooms, better  hotel  quarters,  better  everything 
than  the  others  had,  and  with  the  unhappy  and  ex- 
cited Monsieur  Noire  he  shared  this  unending  strife. 
At  first  he  saw  it  all  in  a  humorous  light,  but,  by 
and  by,  he  came  to  a  period  of  ennui  and  tried  to 
rebel.  This  period  gave  him  more  trouble  than  the 
other,  so  within  a  short  time  he  lapsed  into  an  apa- 
thetic complaint-receptacle  and  dreamed  no  more  of 
walking  or  riding  to  and  from  the  hotel  without  one 
of  these  impulsive  children  of  art,  who  seethed  per- 
petually in  self -prodded  artificial  emotions,  attached 
to  him.  If  it  seemed  strange  at  times  that  Madam 
257 


258    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

Villenauve  was  more  frequently  with  him  than  any  of 
the  others  he  only  reflected  that  the  vivacious  little 
Frenchwoman  was  much  more  persistent;  nor  did  he 
note  that,  presently,  the  others  came  rather  to  give 
way  before  her  and  to  let  her  monopolize  him  more 
and  more. 

It  was  during  the  third  week  that  Professor  Friih- 
lingsvogel  was  to  endure  another  birthday,  and 
Bobby,  full  of  generous  impulses  as  always,  an- 
nounced at  rehearsal  that  in  honor  of  the  Professor's 
unwelcome  milestone  he  intended  to  give  a  little  sup- 
per that  night  at  the  hotel.  Madam  Villenauve, 
standing  beside  him,  suddenly  threw  her  arms  around 
his  neck  and  kissed  him  smack  upon  the  lips,  with 
a  quite  enthusiastic  declaration,  in  very  charmingly 
warped  English,  that  he  was  "a  dear  old  sing." 
Bobby,  reverting  quickly  in  mind  to  the  fact  of  the 
extreme  unconventionally  of  these  people,  took  the 
occurrence  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  though  it 
embarrassed  him  somewhat.  He  rather  counted  him- 
self a  prig  that  he  could  not  sooner  get  over  this 
habit  of  embarrassment,  and  every  time  Madam  Vil- 
lenauve insisted  on  calling  him  into  her  dressing- 
room  when  she  was  in  much  more  of  dishabille  than 
he  would  have  thought  permissible  in  ordinary  peo- 
ple, he  felt  that  same  painful  lack  of  sophistication. 

At  the  supper  that  night,  Madam  Villenauve,  with 


AN    EMBARRASSING    DILEMMA      259 

a  great  show  of  playful  indignation,  routed  Madam 
Kadanoff  from  her  accidental  seat  next  to  Bobby, 
and,  in  giving  up  the  seat,  which  she  did  quite  grace- 
fully enough,  Madam  Kadanoff  dropped  some  re- 
mark in  choice  Russian,  which,  of  course,  Bobby  did 
not  understand,  but  which  Madam  Villenauve  did, 
for  she  laughed  a  little  shrilly  and,  with  an  engaging 
upward  smile  at  Bobby,  observed: 

"I  theenk  I  shall  say  it  zat  zees  so  chairming 
Monsieur  Burnit  is  soon  to  marry  wiz  me;  ees  eet 
not,  monsieur?" 

Whereupon  Bobby,  with  his  customary  courtesy, 
replied : 

"No  gentleman  would  care  to  deny  such  a  charming 
and  attractive  possibility,  Madam  Villenauve." 

But  the  gracious  speech  was  of  the  lips  alone,  and 
spoken  with  a  warning  glare  against  "kidding"  at 
the  grinning  Biff  Bates,  who  had  found  business  of 
urgent  importance  for  that  night  in  the  city  where 
the  company  was  booked.  Bobby,  in  fact,  had  be- 
gun to  tire  very  much  of  the  whole  business.  To 
begin  with,  he  found  the  organization  a  much  more 
expensive  one  to  keep  up  than  he  had  imagined.  The 
route,  badly  laid  out,  was  one  of  tremendous  long 
jumps;  of  his  singers,  like  other  rare  and  expensive 
creatures,  extravagant  care  must  be  taken,  and  not 
every  place  that  they  stopped  was  so  eager  for  grand 


260    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

opera  as  it  might  have  been.  At  the  end  of  three 
weeks  he  was  able  to  compute  that  he  had  lost  about 
a  thousand  dollars  a  week,  and  in  the  fourth  week 
they  struck  an  engagement  so  fruitless  that  even  the 
cheerful  Caravaggio  became  dismal. 

"It's  a  sure  enough  frost,"  she  confided  to  Bobby ; 
"but  cheer  up,  for  the  worst  is  yet  to  come.  Your 
route  sheet  for  the  next  two  months  looks  like  a 
morgue  to  me,  and  unless  you  interpolate  a  few  coon 
songs  in  Tannhauser  and  some  song  and  dance  spe- 
cialties between  the  acts  of  Les  Huguenots  you're 
gone.  You  know  I  used  to  sing  this  route  in  musical 
comedy,  and,  on  the  level,  I've  got  a  fine  part  wait- 
ing for  me  right  now  in  The  Giddy  Queen.  I  like 
this  highbrow  music  all  right,  but  the  people  that 
come  to  hear  it  make  me  so  sad.  You're  a  good  sport, 
though,  and  as  long  as  you  need  me  I'll  stick." 

"Thanks,"  said  Bobby  sincerely.  "It's  a  pleasure 
to  speak  to  a  real  human  being  once  in  a  while,  even 
if  you  don't  offer  any  encouragement.  However, 
we'll  not  be  buried  till  we're  dead,  notwithstanding 
that  we  now  enter  upon  the  graveyard  route." 

Doleful  experience,  however,  confirmed  the  Cara- 
vaggio's  gloomy  prophecy.  They  embarked  now 
upon  a  season  of  one  and  two  and  three  night  stands 
that  gave  Bobby  more  of  the  real  discomforts  of  life 
than  he  had  ever  before  dreamed  possible.  To  close 


AN    EMBARRASSING    DILEMMA      261 

a  performance  at  eleven,  to  pack  and  hurry  for  a 
twelve-thirty  train,  to  ride  until  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning — a  distance  too  short  for  sleep  and  too  long 
to  stay  awake — to  tumble  into  a  hotel  at  six  and  sleep 
until  noon,  this  was  one  program;  to  close  a  per- 
formance at  eleven,  to  wait  up  for  a  four-o'clock 
train,  to  ride  until  eight  and  get  into  a  hotel  at  nine, 
with  a  vitally  necessary  rehearsal  between  that  and 
the  evening  performance,  was  another  program, 
either  one  of  which  wore  on  health  and  temper  and 
purse  alike.  The  losses  now  exceeded  two  thousand 
dollars  a  week.  Moreover,  the  frequent  visits  of  Biff 
Bates  and  his  constant  baiting  of  Signer  Ricardo 
had  driven  that  great  tenor  to  such  a  point  of  dis- 
traction that  one  night,  being  near  New  York,  he 
drew  his  pay  and  departed  without  notice.  There 
was  no  use,  in  spite  of  Monsieur  Noire's  frantic 
insistence,  in  trying  to  make  the  public  believe  that 
the  lank  Dulceo  was  the  fat  Ricardo;  moreover,  im- 
mediately upon  his  arrival  in  New  York,  Signer 
Ricardo  let  it  be  known  that  he  had  left  the  Neapoli- 
tan Company,  so  the  prestige  of  the  company  fell 
off  at  once,  for  the  "country"  press  pays  sharp 
attention  to  these  things. 

A  letter  from  Johnson  at  just  this  time  also  had 
its  influence  upon  Bobby,  who  now  was  in  an 
humble,  not  an  antagonistic  mood,  and  quite  ripe  for 


262    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

advice.  Mr.  Johnson  had  just  conferred  with  Mr. 
Bates  upon  his  return  from  a  visit  to  the  Neapolitan 
Company,  and  Mr.  Bates  had  detailed  to  Mr.  John- 
son much  that  he  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes,  and 
much  that  the  Caravaggio  had  told  him.  Mr.  John- 
son, thereupon,  begging  pardon  for  the  presump- 
tion, deemed  this  a  fitting  time,  from  what  he  had 
heard,  to  forward  Bobby  the  inclosed  letter,  which, 
in  its  gray  envelope,  had  been  left  behind  by  Bobby's 
father : 

To  My  Son  in  the  Midst  of  a  Losing  Fight 

"Determination  is  a  magnificent  quality,  but  bull- 
headedness  is  not.  The  most  foolish  kind  of  pride 
on  earth  is  that  which  makes  a  man  refuse  to  ac- 
knowledge himself  beaten  when  he  is  beaten.  It  takes 
a  pretty  brave  man,  and  one  with  good  stuff  in  him, 
to  let  all  his  friends  know  that  he's  been  licked.  Fig- 
ure this  out." 

Bobby  wrestled  with  that  letter  all  night.  In  the 
morning  he  received  one  from  Agnes  which  served 
to  increase  and  intensify  the  feeling  of  homesickness 
that  had  been  overwhelming  him.  She,  too,  had  seen 
Biff  Bates.  She  had  asked  him  out  to  the  house  ex- 
pressly to  talk  with  him,  but  she  had  written  a  pleas- 
ant, cheerful  letter  wherein  she  hoped  that  the  end 


AN   EMBARRASSING   DILEMMA      263 

of  thie  season  would  repay  the  losses  she  understood 
that  he  was  enduring;  but  she  admitted  that  she  was 
very  lonesome  without  him.  She  gave  him  quite  a 
budget  of  gay  gossip  concerning  all  the  young  peo- 
ple of  his  set,  and  after  he  had  read  that  letter  he 
was  quite  prepared  to  swallow  his  grit  and  make  the 
announcement  that  for  a  week  had  been  almost  upon 
his  tongue. 

Through  Monsieur  Noire,  at  rehearsal  that  after- 
noon, he  declared  his  intention  of  closing  the  season, 
and  offered  them  each  two  weeks'  advance  pay  and 
their  fare  to  New  York.  It  was  Signorina  Cara- 
vaggio  who  broke  the  hush  that  followed  this  an- 
nouncement. 

"You're  a  good  sort,  Bobby  Burnit,"  she  said, 
with  kindly  intent  to  lead  the  others,  "and  I'll  take 
your  offer  and  thank  you." 

It  appeared  that  the  majority  of  them  had  dreaded 
some  such  denouement  as  this ;  some  had  been  pre- 
pared for  even  less  advantageous  terms,  and  sev- 
eral, upon  direct  inquiry,  announced  their  willingness 
to  accept  this  proposal.  A  few  declared  their  inten- 
tion to  hold  him  for  the  full  contract.  These  were 
the  ones  who  had  made  sure  of  his  entire  solvency, 
and  these  afterward  swayed  the  balance  of  the  com- 
pany to  a  stand  which  won  a  better  compromise. 
When  Monsieur  Noire,  with  a  curious  smile,  asked 


264    THE  MAKING  OF.  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Madam  Villenauve,  however,  she  laughed  very  pleas- 
antly. 

"Oh,  non,"  said  she ;  "it  does  not  apply,  zis  offair, 
to  me.  I  do  not  need  it,  for  Monsieur  Burnit  ees 
to  marry  wiz  me  zis  Christmastam." 

"I  am  afraid,  Madam  Villenauve,  that  we  will  have 
to  quit  joking  about  that,"  said  Bobby  coldly. 

" Joking!"  screamed  the  shrill  voice  of  madam. 
"Bet  ees  not  any  joke.  You  can  not  fool  wiz  me, 
Monsieur  Burnit.  You  mean  to  tell  all  zese  people 
zat  you  are  not  to  marry  wiz  me?" 

"I  certainly  have  no  intention  of  the  kind,"  said 
Bobby  impatiently,  "nor  have  I  ever  expressed  such 
an  intention." 

"We  s'all  see  about  zat,"  declared  the  madam  with 
righteous  indignation.  "We  s'all  see  how  you  can 
amuse  yourself.  You  refuse  to  keep  your  word  zat 
you  marry  me?  All  right  zen,  you  do!  I  bring  suit 
to-day  for  brich  promise,  and  I  have  here  one,  two, 
three,  a  dozen  weetness.  I  make  what  you  call  sub- 
poena on  zem  all.  We  s'all  see." 

"Monsieur  Noire,"  said  Bobby,  more  sick  and  sore 
than  panic-stricken,  "you  will  please  settle  matters 
with  all  these  people  and  come  to  me  at  the  hotel  for 
whatever  checks  you  need,"  and,  hurt  beyond  measure 
at  this  one  more  instance  that  there  were,  really,  ra- 
pacious schemers  in  the  world,  who  sought  loathsome 


AN    EMBARRASSING    DILEMMA      265 

advantage  at  the  expense  of  decent  folk,  Bobby  crept 
away,  to  hide  himself  and  try  to  understand. 

They  were  here  for  the  latter  half  of  the  week,  and, 
since  business  seemed  to  be  fairly  good,  Bobby  had 
decided  to  fill  this  engagement,  canceling  all  others. 
In  the  morning  it  seemed  that  Madam  Villenauve  had 
been  in  earnest  in  her  absurd  intentions,  for,  in  his 
room,  at  eleven  o'clock,  he  was  served  with  papers 
in  the  breach-of-promise  suit  of  Villenauve  versus 
Burnit,  and  the  amount  of  damages  claimed  was  the 
tremendous  sum  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars,  an  amount,  of  course,  only  commensurate  with 
Madam  Villenauve's  standing  in  the  profession  and 
her  earning  capacity  as  an  artist,  her  pride  and  shat- 
tered feelings  and  the  dashing  to  earth  of  her  love's 
young  dream  being  of  corresponding  value.  More- 
over, he  learned  that  an  injunction  had  been  issued 
completely  tying  up  his  bank  account.  That  was  the 
parting  blow.  Settling  up  with  the  performers  upon 
a  blood-letting  basis,  he  most  ignominiously  fled.  Be- 
fore he  went  away,  however,  Signorina  Nora  McGin- 
nis  Caravaggio  called  him  to  one  side  and  confided  a 
most  delicate  message  to  him. 

"Your  friend,  Mr.  Bates,"  she  began  with  an 
embarrassed  hesitation  quite  unusual  in  the  direct 
Irish  girl;  "he's  a  nice  boy,  from  the  ground  up, 
and  give  him  an  easy  word  from  me.  But,  Mr. 


266    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Burnit,  give  him  a  hint  not  to  do  any  more  traveling 
on  my  account ;  for  I've  got  a  husband  back  in  New 
York  that  ain't  worth  the  rat  poison  to  put  him  out  of 
his  misery,  but  I'm  not  getting  any  divorces.  One 
mistake  is  enough.  But  don't  be  too  hard  on  me 
when  you  tell  Biff.  Honest,  up  to  just  the  last,  I 
thought  he'd  come  only  to  see  you;  but  I  enjoyed  his 
visits."  And  in  the  eyes  of  the  Caravaggio  there 
stood  real  tears. 

A  newsboy  met  Bobby  on  the  train  with  the  morn- 
ing papers  from  home,  and  in  them  he  read  delight- 
fully flavored  and  spiced  accounts  of  the  great  Ville- 
nauve  breach-of-promise  case,  embellished  with  many 
details  that  were  entirely  new  to  him.  He  had  not 
counted  on  this  phase  of  the  matter,  and  it  struck  him 
almost  as  with  an  ague.  The  notoriety,  the  askance 
looks  he  would  receive  from  his  more  conservative 
acquaintances,  the  "ragging"  he  would  get  at  his 
clubs,  all  these  he  could  stand.  But  Agnes!  How 
could  he  ever  face  her?  How  would  she  receive  him? 
From  the  train  he  took  a  cab  directly  home  and  buried 
himself  there  to  think  it  all  over.  He  spent  a  morn- 
ing of  intense  dejection  and  an  afternoon  of  the  ut- 
most misery.  In  the  evening,  not  caring  to  dine  in 
solitary  gloom  at  home  nor  to  appear  yet  among  his 
fellows,  he  went  out  to  an  obscure  restaurant  in  the 
neighborhood  and  ate  his  dinner,  then  came  back 


AN   EMBARRASSING    DILEMMA      267 

again  to  his  lonely  room,  seeing  nothing  ahead  of 
him  but  an  evening  of  melancholy  alone.  His  butler, 
however,  met  him  in  the  hall  on  his  return. 

"Miss  Elliston  called  up  on  the  'phone  while  you 
were  out,  sir." 

"Did  you  tell  Her  I  was  at  home?"  asked  Bobby 
with  quick  apprehension. 

"Yes,  sir;  you  hadn't  told  me  not  to  do  so,  sir; 
and  she  left  word  that  you  were  to  come  straight  out 
to  the  house  as  soon  as  you  came  in." 

"Very  well,"  said  Bobby,  and  went  into  the  library. 

He  sat  down  before  the  telephone  and  rested  his 
hand  upon  the  receiver  for  perhaps  as  much  as  five 
long  minutes  of  hesitation,  then  abruptly  he  turned 
away  from  that  unsatisfactory  means  of  communica- 
tion and  had  his  car  ordered ;  then  hurriedly  changed 
to  the  evening  clothes  he  had  not  intended  to  don  that 
night. 

In  most  uncertain  anticipation,  but  quite  sure  of 
the  most  vigorous  "blowing  up"  of  his  career,  he 
whirled  out  to  the  home  of  the  Ellistons  and  ascended 
the  steps.  The  ring  at  the  bell  brought  the  ever  im- 
perturbable Wilkins,  who  nodded  gravely  upon  see- 
ing that  it  was  Bobby  and,  relieving  him  of  his  coat 
and  hat,  told  him : 

"Right  up  to  the  Turkish  room,  sir." 

There  seemed  a  strange  quietness  about  the  house, 


268    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

and  he  felt  more  and  more  as  if  he  might  be  ap- 
proaching a  sentence  as  he  climbed  the  silent  stairs. 
At  the  door  of  the  Turkish  room,  however,  Agnes 
met  him  with  outstretched  hands  and  a  smile  of  wel- 
come which  bore  traces  of  quite  too  much  amuse- 
ment for  his  entire  comfort.  When  she  had  drawn 
him  within  the  big  alcove  she  laughed  aloud,  a  light 
laugh  in  which  there  was  no  possible  trace  of  resent- 
ment, and  it  lifted  from  his  mind  the  load  that  had 
been  oppressing  it  all  day  long. 

"I'm  afraid  you  haven't  heard,"  he  began  awk- 
wardly. 

"Heard !"  she  repeated,  and  laughed  again.  "Why, 
Bobby,  I  read  all  the  morning  papers  and  all  the 
evening  papers,  and  I  presume  there  will  be  excellent 
reading  in  every  one  of  them  for  days  and  days  to 
come." 

"And  you're  not  angry?"  he  said,  astounded. 

"Angry!"  she  laughed.  "Why,  you  poor  Bobby. 
I  remember  this  Madam  Villenauve  perfectly,  besides 
seeing  her  ten-years-ago  pictures  in  the  papers,  and 
you  don't  suppose  for  a  minute  that  I  could  be  jeal- 
ous of  her,  do  you?  Moreover,  I  can  prove  by  Aunt 
Constance  and  Uncle  Dan  that  I  predicted  just  this 
very  thing  when  you  first  insisted  upon  going  on 
the  road." 

He   looked  around,   dreading   the  keen   satire   of 


AN    EMBARRASSING    DILEMMA      269 

Uncle  Dan  and  the  incisive  ridicule  of  Aunt  Con- 
stance, but  she  relieved  his  mind  of  that  fear. 

"We  were  all  invited  out  to  dinner  to-night,  but 
I  refused  to  go,  for  really  I  wanted  to  soften  the 
blow  for  you.  There  is  nobody  in  the  house  but 
myself  and  the  servants.  Now,  do  behave,  Bobby! 
Wait  a  minute,  sir!  I've  something  else  to  crush 
you  with.  Have  you  seen  the  evening  papers  ?" 

No ;  the  morning  papers  had  been  enough  for  him. 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you  what  they  are  doing.  The 
Consolidated  Illuminating  and  Power  Company  has 
secured  an  order  from  the  city  council  compelling 
the  Brightlight  Electric  Company  to  remove  their 
poles  from  Market  Street." 

Bobby  caught  his  breath  sharply.  Stone  and 
Sharp  e  and  Garland,  the  political  manipulators  of 
the  city,  and  its  owners,  lock,  stock  and  barrel  were 
responsible  for  this.  They  had  taken  advantage  of 
his  absence. 

"What  a  fool  I  have  been,"  he  bitterly  confessed, 
"to  have  taken  up  with  this  entirely  irregular  and 
idiotic  enterprise,  a  venture  of  which  I  knew  nothing 
whatever,  and  let  go  the  serious  fight  I  had  intended 
to  make  on  Stone  and  his  crowd." 

"Never  mind,  Bobby,"  said  Agnes.  "I  have  a 
suspicion  that  you  have  cut  a  wisdom-tooth.  I  rather 
imagined  that  you  needed  this  one  last  folly  as  a  sort 


270    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

of  relapse  before  complete  convalescence,  to  settle  you 
down  and  bring  you  back  to  me  for  a  more  serious 
effort.  I  see  that  the  most  of  your  money  is  tied  up 
in  this  embarrassing  suit,  and  when  I  read  that  you 
were  on  your  way  home  I  went  to  Mr.  Chalmers  and 
got  him  to  arrange  for  the  release  of  some  bonds. 
Following  the  provisions  of  your  father's  will  your 
next  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  is  waiting  for 
you.  Moreover,  Bobby,  this  time  I  want  you  to  listen 
to  your  trustee.  I  have  found  a  new  business  for 
you,  one  about  which  you  know  nothing  whatever, 
but  one  that  you  must  learn ;  I  want  to  put  a  weapon 
into  your  hands  with  which  to  fight  for  everything 
you  have  lost." 

He  looked  at  her  in  wonder. 

"I  always  told  you  I  needed  you,"  he  declared. 
"When  are  you  going  to  marry  me?" 

"When  you  have  won  your  fight,  Bobby,  or  when 
you  have  proved  entirely  hopeless,"  she  replied  with 
a  smile  in  which  there  was  a  certain  amount  of  wist- 
fulness. 

"You're  a  good  sort,  Agnes,"  he  said  a  little  hus- 
kily, and  he  pondered  for  some  little  time  in  awe  over 
the  existence  of  women  like  this.  "I  guess  the  gov- 
ernor was  mighty  right  in  making  you  my  trustee, 
after  all.  But  what  is  this  business?" 

"The  Evening  Bulletin  is  for  sale,  I  have  learned. 


AN    EMBARRASSING    DILEMMA      271 

Just  now  it  is  an  independent  paper,  but  it  seems 
to  me  you  could  not  have  a  better  weapon,  with  your 
following,  for  fighting  your  political  and  business 
enemies." 

"I'll  think  that  over  very  seriously,"  he  said  with 
much  soberness.  "I  have  refused  everybody's  advice  so 
far,  and  have  taken  only  my  own.  I  have  begun  to 
believe  that  I  am  not  the  wisest  person  in  the  world ; 
also  I  have  come  to  believe  that  there  are  more  ways 
to  lose  money  than  there  are  to  make  money;  also 
I've  found  out  that  men  are  not  the  only  gold-brick 
salesmen.  Agnes,  I'm  what  Biff  Bates  calls  a 
'Hick'!" 

"Look  what  your  father  has  to  say  about  this  last 
escapade  of  yours,"  she  said,  smiling,  and  from  her 
desk  brought  him  one  of  the  familiar  gray  envelopes. 
This  was  the  letter: 

To  My  Daughter  'Agnes,  Upon  Bobby's  Entangle- 
ment with  a  Blackmailing  Woman 

"No  man  can  guard  against  being  roped  in  by  a 
scheming  woman  the  first  time;  but  if  it  happens 
twice  he  deserves  it,  and  he  should  be  turned  out  to 
stay  an  idiot,  for  the  signs  are  so  plain.  A  man 
swindler  takes  a  man's  money  and  makes  a  fool  of 
him ;  but  a  woman  swindler  takes  a  man's  money  and 
leaves  a  smirch  on  him.  Only  a  man's  nearest  and 


272    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

dearest  can  help  him  live  down  such  a  smirch;  so, 
Agnes,  if  my  son  hias  been  this  particular  variety  of 
everlasting  blank  fool,  don't  turn  against  him.  He 
needs  you.  Moreover,  you'll  find  him  improved  by 
it.  He'll  be  so  much  more  humble." 

"I   didn't  really   need  that  letter,"   Agnes   shyly 
confessed;  "but  maybe  it  helped  some." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AGNES  FINDS  BOBBY  A  SLING  AND  BOBBY  PUTS  A  STONE 
IN    IT 

THE  wonderful  change  in  a  girl  who,  through 
her  love,  has  become  all  woman,  that  was 
the  marvel  to  Bobby ;  the  breadth  of  her 
knowledge,  the  depth  of  her  sympathy,  the  bound- 
lessness of  her  compassionate  forgiveness,  her  quality 
of  motherliness ;  and  this  last  was  perhaps  the  great- 
est marvel  of  all.  Yet  even  his  marveling  did  not  en- 
compass all  the  wonder.  In  his  last  exploit,  more  full 
of  folly  than  anything  Into  which  he  had  yet  blund- 
ered, and  the  one  which,  of  all  others,  might  most 
have  turned  her  from  him,  Agnes  had  had  the  harder 
part;  to  sit  at  home  and  wait,  to  dread  she  knew 
not  what.  The  certainty  which  finally  evolved  had 
less  of  distress  in  it  than  not  to  know  while  day  by 
day  passed  by.  One  thing  had  made  it  easier:  never 
for  one  moment  had  she  lost  faith  in  Bobby,  in  any 
way.  She  was  certain,  however,  that  financially  his 
trip  would  be  a  losing  one,  and  from  !  i^  time  he  left 
she  kept  her  mind  almost  constantly  upon  the  thought 
273 


274    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

of  his  future.  She  had  become  almost  desperately 
anxious  for  him  to  fulfill  the  hopes  of  his  father, 
and  day  by  day  she  studied  the  commercial  field  as 
she  had  never  thought  it  possible  that  she  could  do. 
There  was  no  line  of  industry  upon  which  she  did 
not  ponder,  and  there  was  scarcely  any  morning  that 
she  did  not  at  the  breakfast  table  ask  Dan  Elliston 
the  ins  and  outs  of  some  business.  If  he  was  not 
able  to  tell  her  all  she  wanted  to  know,  she  usually 
commissioned  him  to  find  out.  He  took  these  requests 
in  good  part,  and  if  she  accomplished  nothing  else 
by  all  her  inquiries  she  acquired  such  a  commercial 
education  as  falls  to  the  lot  of  but  few  home-kept 
young  women. 

One  morning  her  uncle  came  down  a  trifle  late 
for  breakfast  and  was  in  a  hurry. 

"The  Elliston  School  of  Commercial  Instruction 
will  have  a  recess  for  this  session,"  he  observed  as  he 
popped  into  his  chair.  "I  have  an  important  engage- 
ment at  the  factory  this  morning  and  have  about 
seven  minutes  for  breakfast.  During  that  seven 
minutes  I  prefer  to  eat  rather  than  to  talk.  How- 
ever, I  do  not  object  to  listening.  This  being  my 
last  word  except  to  request  you  to  gather  things 
closely  about  my  plate,  you  may  now  start." 

"Very  well,"  said  she,  dimpling  as  she  usually  did 
at  any  evidence  of  bruskness  on  the  part  of  her 


AGNES    FINDS    BOBBY   A   SLING     275 

Uncle  Dan,  for  from  long  experience  she  knew  the 
harmlessness  of  his  bark.  "Nick  Allstyne  happened 
to  remark  to  me  last  night  that  the  Bulletin  is  for 
sale.  What  do  you  think  of  the  newspaper  business 
for  Bobby?" 

"The  time  necessary  to  answer  that  question  takes 
my  orange  from  me,"  objected  Uncle  Dan  as  he 
hastily  sipped  another  bite  of  the  fruit  and  pushed  it 
away.  "The  newspaper  business  for  Bobby !"  He 
drew  the  muffins  toward  him  and  took  one  upon  his 
plate,  then  he  stopped  and  pondered  a  moment.  "Do 
you  know,"  said  he,  "that's  about  the  best  sugges- 
tion you've  made.  I  believe  he  could  make  a  hummer 
out  of  a  newspaper.  I've  noticed  this  about  the  boy's 
failures;  they  have  all  of  them  been  due  to  lack  of 
experience;  none  of  them  has  been  due  to  any  ab- 
sence of  backbone.  Nobody  has  ever  bluffed  him." 

Agnes  softly  clapped  her  hands. 

"Exactly!"  she  cried.  "Well,  Uncle  Dan,  this  is 
the  last  word  I'm  going  to  say.  For  the  balance  of 
your  seven  minutes  I'm  going  to  help  stuff  you  with 
enough  food  to  keep  you  until  luncheon  time;  but 
sometime  to-day,  if  you  find  time,  I  want  you  to  go 
over  and  see  the  proprietor  of  the  Bulletin  and  find 
out  how  much  he  wants  for  his  property,  and  in- 
vestigate it  as  a  business  proposition  just  the  same 
as  if  you  were  going  into  it  yourself." 


276    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Uncle  Dan,  dipping  voraciously  into  his  soft  boiled 
eggs,  grinned  and  said:  "Huh!"  Then  he  looked 
at  his  watch.  When  he  came  home  to  dinner,  however, 
he  hunted  up  Agnes  at  once. 

"Your  Bulletin  proposition  looks  pretty  good,"  he 
told  her.  "I  saw  Greenleaf.  He's  a  physical  wreck 
and  has  been  for  two  years.  He  has  to  get  away  or 
die.  Moreover,  his  physical  condition  has  reacted 
upon  his  paper.  His  circulation  has  run  down,  but 
he  has  a  magnificent  plant  and  a  good  office  organiza- 
tion. He  wants  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  for 
his  plant,  good  will  and  franchises.  I'm  going  to 
investigate  this  a  little  further.  Do  you  suppose 
Bobby  will  have  two  hundred  thousand  left  when  he 
gets  through  with  grand  opera?" 

"I  hope  so,"  replied  Agnes ;  "but  if  he  hasn't  I'll 
have  him  waste  the  balance  of  this  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  so  that  he  can  draw  the  next  one." 

Uncle  Dan  laughed  in  huge  enjoyment  of  this 
solution. 

"You  surely  were  cut  out  for  high  finance,"  he 
told  her. 

She  smiled,  and  was  silent  a  while,  hesitating. 

"You  seem  to  think  pretty  well  of  the  business 
as  a  business  proposition,"  she  ventured  anxiously, 
by  and  by ;  "but  you  haven't  told  me  what  you  think 
of  it  as  applicable  to  Bobby." 


AGNES   FINDS    BOBBY   A   SLING     277 

"If  he'U  take  you  in  the  office  with  him,  he'll  do 
all  right,"  he  answered  her  banteringly ;  but  when 
he  went  up-stairs  and  found  his  wife  he  said:  "Con- 
stance, if  that  girl  don't  pull  Bobby  Burnit  through 
his  puppyhood  in  good  shape  there  is  something 
wrong  with  the  scheme  of  creation.  There  is  some- 
thing about  you  women  of  the  Elliston  family  that 
every  once  in  a  while  makes  me  pause  and  reverence 
the  Almighty,"  whereupon  Aunt  Constance  flushed 
prettily,  as  became  her. 

With  the  same  earnestness  of  purpose  Agnes  han- 
dled the  question  of  Bobby's  breach-of -promise  suit 
in  so  far  as  it  affected  his  social  reception.  The 
Ellistons  went  to  the  theater  and  sat  in  a  box  to 
exhibit  him  on  the  second  night  after  his  return,  and 
Agnes  took  careful  count  of  all  the  people  she  knew 
who  attended  the  theater  that  night.  The  next  day 
she  went  to  see  all  of  them,  among  others  Mrs.  Hor- 
ace Wickersham,  whose  social  word  was  social  law. 

"My  dear,"  said  the  redoubtable  Mrs.  Wicker- 
sham,  "  it  does  Bobby  Burnit  great  credit  that  he  did 
not  marry  the  creature.  Of  course  I  shall  invite  him 
to  our  affair  next  Friday  night." 

After  that  there  could  be  no  further  question  of 
Bobby's  standing,  though  without  the  firm  support 
of  Agnes  he  might  possibly  have  been  ostracised, 
for  a  time  at  least. 


278    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

It  was  with  much  less  certainty  that  she  spread 
before  Bobby  the  facts  and  figures  which  Uncle  Dan 
had  secured  about  the  condition  and  prospects  of  the 
Bulletin.  She  did  not  urge  the  project  upon  him. 
Instead,  though  in  considerable  anxiety,  she  left 
the  proposition  open  to  his  own  judgment.  He  pon- 
dered the  question  more  soberly  and  seriously  than 
he  had  yet  considered  anything.  There  were  but  two 
chances  left  to  redeem  himself  now,  and  he  felt  much 
like  a  gambler  who  has  been  reduced  to  his  last 
desperate  stake.  He  grew  almost  haggard  over  the 
proposition,  and  he  spent  two  solid  weeks  in  investi- 
gation. He  went  to  Washington  to  see  Jack  Starlett, 
who  knew  three  or  four  newspaper  proprietors  in 
Philadelphia  and  elsewhere.  He  obtained  introduc- 
tions to  these  people  and  consulted  with  them,  in- 
spected their  plants  and  listened  to  all  they  would 
say;  as  they  liked  him,  they  said  much.  Ripened 
considerably  by  what  he  had  found  out  he  came  back 
home  and  bought  the  Bulletin.  Moreover,  he  had 
very  definitely  made  up  his  mind  precisely  what  to 
do  with  it. 

On  the  first  morning  that  he  walked  into  the  office 
of  that  paper  as  its  sole  owner  and  proprietor,  he 
called  the  managing  editor  to  him  and  asked: 

"What,  heretofore,  has  been  the  politics  of  this 
paper?" 


AGNES    FINDS    BOBBY    A    SLING    279 

"Pale  yellow  jelly,"  snapped  Ben  Jolter  wrath- 
fully. 

"Supposed  to  be  anti-Stone,  hasn't  it  been?" 
Bobby  smilingly  inquired. 

"But  always  perfectly  ladylike  in  what  it  said 
about  him." 

"And  what  are  the  politics  of  the  employees?" 

At  this  Mr.  Jolter  snorted. 

"They  are  good  newspaper  men,  Mr.  Burnit,"  he 
stated  in  quick  defense ;  "and  a  good  newspaper  man 
has  no  politics." 

Bobby  eyed  Mr.  Jolter  with  contemplative  favor. 
He  was  a  stout,  stockily-built  man,  with  a  square 
head  and  sparse  gray  hair  that  would  persist  in 
tangling  and  curling  at  the  ends ;  and  he  perpetually 
kept  his  sleeves  rolled  up  over  his  big  arms. 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  this  business,"  con- 
fessed Bobby,  "but  I  hope  to.  First  of  all,  I'd  like 
to  find  out  why  the  Bulletin  has  no  circulation." 

"The  lack  of  a  spinal  column,"  asserted  Jolter. 
"It  has  had  no  policy,  stood  pat  on  no  proposition, 
and  made  no  aggressive  fight  on  anything." 

"If  I  understand  what  you  mean  by  the  word," 
said  Bobby  slowly,  "the  Bulletin  is  going  to  have  a 
policy." 

It  was  now  Mr.  Jolter's  turn  to  gaze  contempla- 
tively at  Bobby. 


280    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"If  you  were  ten  years  older  I  would  feel  more 
hopeful  about  it,"  he  decided  bluntly. 

The  young  man  flushed  uncomfortably.  He  was 
keenly  aware  that  he  had  made  an  ass  of  himself  in 
business  four  successive  times,  and  that  Jolter  knew 
it.  By  way  of  facing  the  music,  however,  he  showed 
to  his  managing  editor  a  letter,  left  behind  with  old 
Johnson  for  Bobby  by  the  late  John  Burnit: 

"The  mere  fact  that  a  man  has  been  foolish  four 
times  is  no  absolute  proof  that  he  is  a  fool ;  but  it's  a 
mighty  significant  hint.  However,  Bobby,  I'm  still 
betting  on  you,  for  by  this  time  you  ought  to  have 
your  fighting  blood  at  the  right  temperature;  and 
I've  seen  you  play  great  polo  in  spite  of  a  cracked 
rib. 

"P.  S.  If  any  one  else  intimates  that  you  are  a  fool, 
trounce  him  one  for  me." 

"If  there's  anything  in  heredity  you're  a  lucky 
young  man,"  said  Jolter  seriously,  as  he  handed  back 
the  letter. 

"I  think  the  governor  was  worried  about  it  him- 
self," admitted  Bobby  with  a  smile;  "and  if  he  was 
doubtful  I  can't  blame  you  for  being  so.  Nevertheless, 
Mr.  Jolter,  I  must  insist  that  we  are  going  to  have  a 
policy,"  and  he  quietly  outlined  it. 

Mr.  Jolter  had  been  so  long  a  directing  voice  in  the 
newspaper  business  that  he  could  not  be  startled  by 


AGNES    FINDS    BOBBY    A    SLING     281 

anything  short  of  a  presidential  assassination,  and 
that  at  press  time.  Nevertheless,  at  Bobby's  announce- 
ment he  immediately  sought  for  his  pipe  and  was 
compelled  to  go  into  his  own  office  after  it.  He  came 
back  lighting  it  and  felt  better. 

"It's  suicide !"  he  declared. 

"Then  we'll  commit  suicide,"  said  Bobby  pleasantly. 

Mr.  Jolter,  after  long,  grinning  thought,  solemnly 
shook  hands  with  him. 

"I'm  for  it,"  said  he.  "Here's  hoping  that  we  sur- 
vive long  enough  to  write  our  own  obituary !" 

Mr.  Jolter,  to  whom  fighting  was  as  the  breath  of 
new-mown  hay,  and  who  had  long  been  curbed  in  that 
delightful  occupation,  went  back  into  his  own  office 
with  a  more  cheerful  air  than  he  had  worn  for  many 
a  day,  and  issued  a  few  forceful  orders,  winding  up 
with  a  direction  to  the  press  foreman  to  prepare  for 
ten  thousand  extra  copies  that  evening. 

When  the  three  o'clock  edition  of  the  Bulletin  came 
on  the  street,  the  entire  first  page  was  taken  up  by  a 
life-size  half-tone  portrait  of  Sam  Stone,  and  under- 
neath it  was  the  simple  legend : 

THIS  MAN  MUST  LEAVE  TOWN 

The  first  citizens  to  awake  to  the  fact  that  the 
Bulletin  was  born  anew  were  the  newsboys.  Those  live 


282    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

and  enterprising  merchants,  with  a  very  keen  judg- 
ment of  comparative  values,  had  long  since  ceased  to 
call  the  Bulletin  at  all ;  half  of  them  had  even  ceased 
to  carry  it.  Within  two  minutes  after  this  edition  was 
out  they  were  clamoring  for  additional  copies,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  years  the  alley  door  of  the  Bulletin 
was  besieged  by  a  seething  mob  of  ragged,  diminutive, 
howling  masculinity.  Out  on  the  street,  however,  they 
were  not  even  now  calling  the  name  of  the  paper. 
They  were  holding  forth  that  black  first  page  and 
screaming  just  the  name  of  Sam  Stone. 

Sam  Stone!  It  was  a  magic  name,  for  Stone  had 
been  the  boss  of  the  town  since  years  without  num- 
ber ;  a  man  who  had  never  held  office,  but  who  dictated 
the  filling  of  all  offices ;  a  man  who  was  not  osten- 
sibly in  any  business,  but  who  swayed  the  fortune  of 
every  public  enterprise ;  a  self-confessed  grafter  whom 
crusade  after  crusade  had  failed  to  dislodge  from  ab- 
solute power.  The  crowds  upon  the  street  snapped 
eagerly  at  that  huge  portrait  and  searched  as  eagerly 
through  the  paper  for  more  about  the  Boss.  They 
did  not  find  it,  except  upon  the  editorial  page,  where, 
in  the  space  usually  devoted  to  drivel  about  "How 
Kind  We  Should  Be  to  Dumb  Animals,"  and  "Why 
Fathers  Should  Confide  More  in  Their  Sons,"  ap- 
peared in  black  type  a  paraphrase  of  the  legend  on 
the  outside:  "Sam  Stone  Must  Leave  Town"  Be- 


AGNES   FINDS    BOBBY   A    SLING    283 

neath  was  the  additional  information:  "Further  is- 
sues of  the  Bulletin  will  tell  why."  Above  and  below 
this  was  nothing  but  startlingly  white  blank  paper, 
two  solid  columns  of  it  up  and  down  the  page. 

Down  in  the  deep  basement  of  the  Bulletin,  the  big 
three-deck  presses,  two  of  which  had  been  standing 
idle  since  the  last  presidential  election,  were  pound- 
ing out  copies  by  the  thousand,  while  grimy  pressmen, 
blackened  with  ink,  perspired  most  happily. 

By  five  o'clock,  men  and  even  girls,  pouring  from 
their  offices,  and  laborers  coming  from  work,  had  all 
heard  of  it,  and  on  the  street  the  bold  defiance  created 
first  a  gasp  and  then  a  smile.  Another  attempt  to 
dislodge  Sam  Stone  was,  in  the  light  of  previous  ef- 
forts, a  laughable  thing  to  contemplate;  and  yet  it 
was  interesting. 

In  the  office  of  the  Bulletin  it  was  a  gleeful  occasion. 
Nonchalant  reporters  sat  down  with  that  amazing 
front  page  spread  out  before  them,  studied  the  brutal 
face  of  Stone  and  chuckled  cynically.  Lean  Doc  Mil- 
ler, "assistant  city  editor,"  or  rather  head  copy  reader, 
lit  one  cigarette  from  the  stub  of  another  and  observed, 
to  nobody  in  particular  but  to  everybody  in  general : 

"I  can  see  where  we  all  contribute  for  a  beautiful 
Gates  Ajar  floral  piece  for  one  Robert  Burnit;" 
whereupon  fat  "Bugs"  Roach,  "handling  copy"  across 
the  table  from  him,  inquired : 


284    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Do  you  suppose  the  new  boss  really  has  this  much 
nerve,  or  is  he  just  a  damned  fool?" 

"Stone  won't  do  a  thing  to  him!"  ingratiatingly 
observed  a  "cub"  reporter,  laying  down  twelve  pages 
of  "copy"  about  a  man  who  had  almost  been  bur- 
glarized. 

"Look  here,  you  Greenleaf  Whittier  Squiggs,"  said 
Doc  Miller  most  savagely,  not  because  he  had  any  par- 
ticular grudge  against  the  unfortunately  named  G. 
W.,  but  because  of  discipline  and  the  custom  with 
"cubs,"  "the  next  time  you're  sent  out  on  a  twenty- 
minute  assignment  like  this,  remember  the  number  of 
the  Bulletin,  427  Grand  Street.  The  telephone  is  Cen- 
tral 2051,  and  don't  forget  to  report  the  same  day. 
Did  you  get  the  man's  name?  Uh-huh.  His  address? 
Uh-huh.  Well,  we  don't  want  the  item." 

Slow  and  phlegmatic  Jim  Brown,  who  had  been  city 
editor  on  the  Bulletin  almost  since  it  was  the  Bulletin 
under  half  a  dozen  changes  of  ownership  and  nearly 
a  score  of  managing  editors,  sauntered  over  into  Jol- 
ter's  room  with  a  copy  of  the  paper  in  his  hand,  and 
a  long  black  stogie  held  by  some  miracle  in  the  corner 
of  his  mouth,  where  it  would  be  quite  out  of  the  road 
of  conversation. 

"Pretty  good  stuff,"  he  drawled,  indicating  the  re- 
markable first  page. 

"The  greatest  circus  act  that  was  ever  pulled  off 


AGNES    FINDS    BOBBY    A    SLING     285 

in  the  newspaper  business,"  asserted  Jolter.  "It  will 
quadruple  the  present  circulation  of  the  Bulletin  in 
a  week." 

"Make  or  break,"  assented  the  city  editor,  "with 
the  odds  in  favor  of  the  break." 

A  slenderly-built  young  man,  whose  red  face  needed 
a  shave  and  whose  clothes,  though  wrinkled  and  un- 
brushed,  shrieked  of  quality,  came  stumbling  up  the 
stairs  in  such  hot  haste  as  was  possible  in  his  condi- 
tion, and  without  ceremony  or  announcement  burst 
into  the  room  where  Bobby  Burnit,  with  that  day's 
issue  of  the  Bulletin  spread  out  before  him,  was  try- 
ing earnestly  to  get  a  professional  idea  of  the  proper 
contents  of  a  newspaper. 

"Great  goods,  old  man !"  said  the  stranger.  "I  want 
to  congratulate  you  on  your  lovely  nerve,"  and  seizing 
Bobby's  hand  he  shook  it  violently. 

"Thanks,"  said  Bobby,  not  quite  sure  whether  to 
be  amused  or  resentful.  "Who  are  you  ?" 

"I'm  Dillingham,"  announced  the  red-faced  young 
man  with  a  cheerful  smile. 

Bobby  was  about  to  insist  upon  further  informa- 
tion, when  Mr.  Jolter  came  in  to  introduce  Brown, 
who  had  not  yet  met  Mr.  Burnit. 

"Dill,"  drawled  Brown,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye, 
"how  much  money  have  you?" 

"Money  to  burn ;  money  in  every  pocket,"  asserted 


286    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Mr.  Dillingham;  "money  to  last  for  ever,"  and  he 
jammed  both  hands  in  his  trousers'  pockets. 

It  was  an  astonishing  surprise  to  Mr.  Dillingham, 
after  groping  in  those  pockets,  to  find  that  he  brought 
up  only  a  dollar  bill  in  his  left  hand  and  forty- 
five  cents  in  silver  in  his  right.  He  was  still  contem- 
plating in  awed  silence  this  perplexing  fact  when 
Brown  handed  him  a  five-dollar  bill. 

"Now,  you  run  right  out  and  get  stewed  to  the  eye- 
brows again,"  directed  Brown.  "Get  properly  pickled 
and  have  it  over  with,  then  show  up  here  in  the  morn- 
ing with  a  headache  and  get  to  work.  We  want  you  to 
take  charge  of  the  Sam  Stone  expose,  and  in  to-mor- 
row's Bulletin  we  want  the  star  introduction  of  your 
life." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  you're  going  to  trust  the 
whole  field  conduct  of  this  campaign  to  that  chap?" 
asked  Bobby,  frowning,  when  Dillingham  had  gone. 

"This  is  his  third  day,  so  Dill's  safe  for  to-morrow 
morning,"  Brown  hastened  to  assure  him.  "He'll  be 
up  here  early,  so  penitent  that  he'll  be  incased  in  a 
blue  fog — and  he'll  certainly  deliver  the  goods." 

Bobby  sighed  and  gave  it  up.  This  was  a  new 
world. 

Over  in  his  dingy  little  office,  up  his  dingy  flight 
of  stairs,  Sam  Stone  sat  at  his  bare  and  empty  old 
desk,  looking  contemplatively  out  of  the  window,  when 


AGNES    FINDS    BOBBY    A    SLING     281 

Frank  Sharpe — his  luxuriant  gray  mustache  in  an 
extraordinary  and  most  violent  state  of  straggling 
curliness — came  nervously  bustling  in  with  a  copy  of 
the  Bulletm  in  his  hand. 

"Have  you  seen  this  ?"  he  shrilled. 

"Heard  about  it,"  grunted  Stone. 

"But  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  demanded  Sharpe 
indignantly,  and  spread  the  paper  out  on  the  desk 
before  the  Boss,  thumping  it  violently  with  his 
knuckles. 

Stone  studied  it  well,  without  the  slightest  change 
of  expression  upon  his  heavy  features. 

"It's  a  swell  likeness,"  he  quietly  conceded,  by  and 
by. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

BOBBY  BEGINS  TO  GIVE  TESTIMONY  THAT  HE  IS  OLD 
JOHN  BUBNIT'S  SON 

CLOSETED  with  Jolter  and  Brown,  and  map- 
ping out  with  them  the  dangerous  campaign 
into  which  they  had  plunged,  Bobby  did  not 
leave  the  office  of  the  Bulletin  until  six  o'clock.  At 
the  curb,  just  as  he  was  about  to  step  into  his  wait- 
ing machine,  Biff  Bates  hailed  him  with  vast  en- 
thusiasm. 

"Go  to  it,  Bobby!"  said  he.  "I'm  backing  you 
across  the  board,  win,  place  and  show ;  but  let  me  give 
you  a  hot  tip  right  from  the  stables.  You  want  to  be 
afraid  to  go  home  in  the  dark,  or  Stone's  lobbygows 
will  lean  on  you  with  a  section  of  plumbing." 

"I've  thought  of  that,  Biff,"  laughed  Bobby;  "and 
I  think  I'll  organize  a  band  of  murderers  of  my  own." 

Johnson,  whom  Bobby  had  quite  forgotten  in  the 
stress  of  the  day,  joined  them  at  this  moment.  Thirty 
years  as  head  bookkeeper  and  confidential  adviser  in 
old  John  Burnit's  merchandise  establishment  had  not 
fitted  lean  Johnson  for  the  less  dignified  and  more 
288 


OLD   JOHN    BURNIT'S    SON  289 

flurried  work  of  a  newspaper  office,  even  in  the  busi- 
ness department,  and  he  was  looking  very  much 
fagged. 

"Well,  Johnson,  what  do  you  think  of  my  first  issue 
of  the  Bulletin?"  asked  Bobby  pleasantly. 

Johnson  looked  genuinely  distressed. 

"To  teU  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Burnit,"  said  he,  "I 
have  not  seen  it.  I  never  in  all  my  life  saw  a  place 
where  there  were  so  many  interruptions  to  work.  If 
we  could  only  be  back  in,  your  father's  store,  sir." 

"We'll  be  back  there  before  we  quit,"  said  Bobby 
confidently ;  "or  I'll  be  in  the  incurable  ward." 

"I  hope  so,  sir,"  said  Johnson  dismally,  and  strode 
across  the  street  to  catch  his  car ;  but  he  came  back 
hastily  to  add:  "I  meant  about  the  store;  not  about 
the  asylum." 

Biff  Bates  laughed  as  he  clambered  into  the  ton- 
neau  with  Bobby. 

"If  you'd  make  a  billion  dollars,  Bobby,  but  didn't 
get  back  your  father's  business  that  Silas  Trimmer 
snaked  away  from  you,  Johnson  would  think  you'd 
overlooked  the  one  best  bet." 

"So  would  I,"  said  Bobby  soberly,  and  he  had  but 
very  little  more  to  say  until  the  chauffeur  stopped  at 
Bobby's  own  door,  where  puffy  old  Applerod,  who  had 
been  next  to  Johnson  in  his  usefulness  to  old  John 
Burnit,  stood  nervously  awaiting  him  on  the  steps. 


290    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Terrible,  sir!  Terrible!"  spluttered  Applerod  the 
moment  he  caught  sight  of  Bobby.  "This  open  defi- 
ance of  Mr.  Stone  will  put  entirely  out  of  existence 
what  little  there  is  left  of  the  Brightlight  Electric 
Company." 

"Cheer  up,  Applerod,  for  death  must  come  to  us 
all,"  encouraged  Bobby.  "Such  shreds  and  fragments 
of  the  Brightlight  as  there  are  left  would  have  been 
wiped  out  anyhow ;  and  frankly,  if  you  must  have  it, 
I  put  you  in  there  as  general  manager,  when  I  shifted 
Johnson  to  the  Bulletin  this  morning,  because  there 
was  nothing  to  manage." 

Applerod  threw  up  his  hands  in  dismay. 
"And  there  will  be  less.    Oh,  Mr.  Burnit,  if  your 
father  were  only  here !" 

Bobby,  whose  suavity  Applerod  had  never  before 
seen  ruffled,  turned  upon  him  angrily. 

"I'm  tired  hearing  about  my  father,  Applerod," 
he  declared.  "I  revere  the  governor's  memory  too 
much  to  want  to  be  made  angry  by  the  mention  of  his 
name.  Hereafter,  kindly  catch  the  idea,  if  you  can, 
that  I  am  my  own  man  and  must  work  out  my  own 
salvation;  and  I  propose  to  do  it!  Biff,  you  don't 
mind  if  I  put  off  seeing  you  until  to-morrow  ?  I  have 
a  dinner  engagement  this  evening  and  very  little  time 
to  dress." 

"His  own  man,"  said  Applerod  sorrowfully  when 


OLD    JOHN    BURNIT'S    SON          291 

Bobby  had  left  them.  "John  Burnit  would  be  half 
crazy  if  he  could  know  what  a  botch  his  son  is  making 
of  things.  I  don't  see  how  a  man  could  let  himself  be 
cheated  four  times  in  business." 

"I  can  tell  you,"  retorted  Biff.  "All  his  old  man 
ever  did  for  him  was  to  stuff  his  pockets  with  kale, 
and  let  him  grow  up  into  the  sort  of  clubs  where  one 
sport  says:  'I'm  going  to  walk  down  to  the  corner.' 
Says  the  other  sport :  'I'll  bet  you  see  more  red-headed 
girls  on  the  way  down  than  you  do  on  the  way  back.' 
Says  the  first  sport:  'You're  on  for  a  hundred.'  He 
goes  down  to  the  corner  and  he  comes  back.  'How 
about  the  red-headed  girls  ?'  asks  the  second  sport.  'I 
lose,'  says  the  first  sport ;  'here's  your  hundred.'  Now, 
when  Bobby  is  left  real  money,  he  starts  in  to  play 
the  same  open-face  game,  and  when  one  of  these  busi- 
ness wolves  tells  him  anything  Bobby  don't  stop  to 
figure  whether  the  mut  means  what  he  says,  or  means 
something  else  that  sounds  like  the  same  thing.  Now, 
if  Bobby  was  a  simp  they'd  sting  him  in  so  many 
places  that  he'd  be  swelled  all  over,  like  an  exhibition 
cream  puff;  but  he  ain't  a  simp.  It  took  him  four 
times  to  learn  that  he  can't  take  a  man's  word  in  busi- 
ness. That's  all  he  needed.  Bobby's  awake  now,  and 
more  than  that  he's  mad,  and  if  I  hear  you  make  an- 
other crack  that  he  ain't  about  all  the  candy  I'll  sick 
old  Johnson  on  you,"  and  with  this  dire  threat  Biff 


292    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

wheeled,  leaving  Mr.  Applerod  speechless  with  red- 
faced  indignation. 

It  was  just  a  quiet  family  dinner  that  Bobby  at- 
tended that  night  at  the  Ellistons',  with  Uncle  Dan 
and  Aunt  Constance  Elliston  at  the  head  and  foot  of 
the  table,  and  across  from  him  the  smiling  face  of 
Agnes.  He  was  so  good  to  look  at  that  Agnes  was 
content  just  to  watch  him,  but  Aunt  Constance  noted 
his  abstraction  and  chided  him  upon  it. 

"Really,  Bobby,"  said  she,  "since  you  have  gone 
into  business  you're  ruined  socially." 

"Frankly,  I  don't  mind,"  he  replied,  smiling.  "I'd 
rather  be  ruined  socially  than  financially.  In  spite  of 
certain  disagreeable  features  of  it,  I  have  a  feeling 
upon  me  to-night  that  I'm  going  to  like  the  struggle." 

"You're  starting  a  stiff  one  now,"  observed  Uncle 
Dan  dryly.  "Beginning  an  open  fight  against  Sam 
Stone  is  a  good  deal  like  being  suspended  over  Hades 
by  a  single  hair — amidst  a  shower  of  Roman  candles." 

"That's  putting  it  about  right,  I  guess,"  admitted 
Bobby ;  "but  I'm  relying  on  the  fact  that  the  public 
at  heart  is  decent." 

"Do  you  remember,  Bobby,  what  Commodore  Van- 
derbilt  said  about  the  public?"  retorted  Uncle  Dan. 
"They're  decent,  all  right,  but  they  won't  stick  to- 
gether in  any  aggressive  movement  short  of  gun- 
powder. In  the  meantime,  Stone  has  more  entrench- 


OLD   JOHN    BURNIT'S    SON          293 

ments  than  even  you  can  dream.  For  instance,  I  should 
not  wonder  but  that  within  a  very  short  time  I  shall 
be  forced  to  try  my  influence  with  you  in  his  behalf." 

"How?"  asked  Bobby  incredulously. 

"Well,  I  am  trying  to  get  a  spur  track  from  the 
X.  Y.  Z.  Railroad  to  my  factory  on  Spindle  Street. 
The  X.  Y.  Z.  is  perfectly  willing  to  put  in  the  track, 
and  I'm  trying  to  have  the  city  council  grant  us  a 
permit.  Now,  who  is  the  city  council?" 

"Stone,"  Bobby  was  compelled  to  admit. 

"Of  course.  I  have  already  arranged  to  pay  quite  a 
sum  of  money  to  the  capable  and  honest  city  council- 
man of  that  ward.  The  ca-pable  and  honest  councilman 
will  go  to  Stone  and  give  up  about  three-fourths  of 
what  I  pay  him.  Then  Stone  will  pass  the  word  out 
to  the  other  councilmen  that  he's  for  Alderman  Hold- 
up's spur  track  permit,  and  I  get  it.  Very  simple  ar- 
rangement, and  satisfactory,  but,  if  they  do  not  shove 
that  measure  through  at  their  meeting  to-morrow 
night,  before  Stone  finds  out  any  possible  connection 
between  you  and  me,  the  price  of  it  will  not  be  money. 
I'll  be  sent  to  you." 

"I  see,"  said  Bobby  in  dismay.  "In  other  words,  it 
will  be  put  flatly  up  to  me ;  I'll  either  have  to  quit  my 
attacks  on  Stone,  or  be  directly  responsible  for  your 
losing  your  valuable  spur  track." 

"Exactly,"  said  Uncle  Dan. 


294    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

Bobby  drew  a  long  breath. 

"I'm  very  much  afraid,  Mr.  Elliston,  that  you  will 
have  to  do  without  your  spur." 

Uncle  Dan's  eyes  twinkled. 

"I'm  willing,"  said  he.  "I  have  a  good  offer  to  sell 
that  branch  of  my  plant  anyhow,  and  I  think  I'll  dis- 
pose of  it.  I  have  been  very  frank  with  you  about  this, 
so  that  you  will  know  exactly  what  to  expect  when 
other  people  come  at  you.  You  will  be  beset  as  you 
never  were  before." 

"I  have  been  looking  for  an  injunction,  myself." 

"You  will  have  no  injunction,  for  Stone  scarcely 
dares  go  publicly  into  his  own  courts,"  said  Uncle 
Dan,  with  a  pretty  thorough  knowledge,  gained 
through  experience,  of  the  methods  of  the  "Stone 
gang" ;  "though  he  might  even  use  that  as  a  last  re- 
sort. That  will  be  after  intimidation  fails,  for  it  is 
quite  seriously  probable  that  they  will  hire  somebody 
to  beat  you  into  insensibility.  If  that  don't  teach  you 
the  proper  lesson,  they  will  probably  kill  you." 

Agnes  looked  up  apprehensively,  but  catching  Boti- 
by's  smile  took  this  latter  phase  of  the  matter  as  a 
joke.  Bobby  himself  was  not  deeply  impressed  with 
it,  but  before  he  went  away  that  night  Uncle  Dan  took 
him  aside  and  urged  upon  him  the  seriousness  of  the 
matter. 

"I'll  fight  them  with  their  own  weapons,  then,"  de- 


OLD    JOHN    BURNIT'S    SON          295 

clared  Bobby.  "I'll  organize  a  counter  band  of  thugs, 
and  I'll  block  every  move  they  make  with  one  of  the 
same  sort.  Somehow  or  other  I  think  I  am  going  to 
win." 

"Of  course  you  will  win,"  said  Agnes  confidently, 
overhearing  this  last  phrase;  and  with  that  most 
prized  of  all  encouragement,  the  faith  in  his  prowess 
of  the  one  woman,  Bobby,  for  that  night  at  least,  felt 
quite  contemptuous  of  the  grilling  fight  to  come. 

His  second  issue  of  the  Bulletin  contained  on  the 
front  page  a  three-column  picture  of  Sam  Stone, 
with  the  same  caption,  together  with  a  full-page  ar- 
ticle, written  by  Dillingham  from  data  secured  by  him- 
self and  the  others  who  were  put  upon  the  "story." 
This  set  forth  the  main  iniquities  of  Sam  Stone  and 
his  crew  of  municipal  grafters.  In  the  third  day's 
issue  the  picture  was  reduced  to  two  columns,  occupy- 
ing the  left-hand  upper  corner  of  the  front  page, 
where  Bobby  ordered  it  to  remain  permanently  as  the 
slogan  of  the  Bulletin;  and  now  Dillingham  began  his 
long  series  of  articles,  taking  up  point  by  point  the 
ramifications  of  Stone's  machine,  and  coming  closer 
and  closer  daily  to  people  who  would  much  rather  have 
been  left  entirely  out  of  the  picture. 

It  was  upon  this  third  day  that  Bobby,  becoming 
apprehensive  merely  because  nothing  had  happened, 
received  a  visit  from  Frank  Sharpe.  Mr.  Sharpe  was 


296    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

as  nattily  dressed  as  ever,  and  presented  himself  as 
pleasantly  as  a  summer  breeze  across  fields  of  clover. 

"I  came  in  to  see  you  about  merging  the  Bright- 
light  Electric  Company  with  the  Consolidated,  Mr. 
Burnit,"  said  Mr.  Sharpe  in  a  chatty  tone,  laying  his 
hat,  cane  and  gloves  upon  Bobby's  desk  and  seating 
himself  comfortably. 

From  his  face  there  was  no  doubt  in  Mr.  Sharpens 
mind  that  this  was  a  mere  matter  of  an  interview  with 
a  satisfactory  termination,  for  Mr.  Sharpe  had  done 
business  with  Bobby  before ;  but  something  had  hap- 
pened to  Bobby  in  the  meantime. 

"When  I  get  ready  for  a  merger  of  the  Brightlight 
with  the  Consolidated  I'll  tell  you  about  it ;  and  also 
I'll  tell  you  the  terms,"  Bobby  advised  him  with  a 
snap,  and  for  the  first  time  Mr.  Sharpe  noted  what  a 
good  jaw  Bobby  had. 

"I  should  think,"  hesitated  Sharpe,  "that  in  the 
present  condition  of  the  Brightlight  almost  any  terms 
would  be  attractive  to  you.  You  have  no  private  con- 
sumers now,  and  your  contract  for  city  lighting, 
which  you  can  not  evade  except  by  bankruptcy,  is 
losing  you  money." 

"If  that  were  news  to  me  it  would  be  quite  star- 
tling," responded  Bobby,  "but  you  see,  Mr.  Sharpe, 
I  am  quite  well  acquainted  with  the  facts  myself. 
Also,  I  have  a  strong  suspicion  that  you  tampered 


OLD   JOHN    BURNIT'S    SON          297 

with  my  plant ;  that  your  hired  agents  cut  my  wires, 
ruined  my  dynamos  and  destroyed  the  efficiency  of 
my  service  generally." 

"You  will  find  it  very  difficult  to  prove  that,  Mr. 
Burnit,"  said  Sharpe,  with  a  sternness  which  could 
not  quite  conceal  a  lurking  smile. 

"I'm  beginning  to  like  difficulty,"  retorted  Bobby. 
"I  do  not  mind  telling  you  that  I  was  never  angry 
before  in  my  life,  and  I'm  surprised  to  find  myself 
enjoying  the  sensation." 

Bobby  was  still  more  astonished  to  find  himself  lay- 
ing his  fist  tensely  upon  his  desk.  The  lurking  smile 
was  now  gone  entirely  from  Mr.  Sharpe's  face. 

"I  must  admit,  Mr.  Burnit,  that  your  affairs  have 
turned  out  rather  unfortunately,"  he  said,  "but  I 
think  that  they  might  be  remedied  for  you  a  bit,  per- 
haps. Suppose  you  go  and  see  Stone." 

"I  do  not  care  to  see  Mr.  Stone,"  said  Bobby. 
"But  he  wants  to  see  you,"  persisted  Sharpe.    "In 
fact,  he  told  me  so  this  morning.   I'm  quite  sure  you 
would  find  it  to  your  advantage  to  drop  over  there." 

"I  shall  never  enter  Mr.  Stone's  office  until  he  has 
vacated  it  for  good,"  said  Bobby ;  "then  I  might  be 
induced  to  come  over  and  break  up  the  furniture.  If 
Stone  wants  to  see  me  I'm  keeping  fairly  regular  of- 
fice hours  here." 

"It  is  not  Mr.  Stone's  habit  to  go  to  other  people," 


298    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

bluffed  Sharpe,  growing  somewhat  nervous ;  for  it  was 
one  of  Stone's  traits  not  to  forgive  the  failure  of  a 
mission.  He  had  no  use  for  extenuating  circumstances. 
He  never  looked  at  anything  in  this  world  but  re- 
sults. 

Bobby  took  down  the  receiver  of  his  house  tele- 
phone. 

"I'd  like  to  speak  to  Mr.  Jolter,  please,"  said  he. 

Sharpe  rose  to  go. 

"Just  wait  a  moment,  Mr.  Sharpe,"  said  Bobby 
peremptorily,  and  Sharpe  stopped.  "Jolter,"  he  di- 
rected crisply,  turning  again  to  the  'phone,  "kindly 
step  into  my  office,  will  you  ?" 

A  moment  later,  while  Sharpe  stood  wondering, 
Jolter  came  in,  and  grinned  as  he  noted  Bobby's  visi- 
tor. 

"Mr.  Jolter,"  asked  Bobby,  "have  we  a  good  por- 
trait of  Mr.  Sharpe?" 

Jolter,  still  grinning,  stated  that  they  had. 

"Have  a  three-column  half-tone  made  of  it  for  this 
evening's  Bulletin." 

Sharpe  fairly  spluttered. 

"Mr.  Burnit,  if  you  print  my  picture  in  the  Bulle- 
tin connected  with  anything  derogatory,  I'll — I'll — " 

Bobby  waited  politely  for  a  moment. 

"Go  ahead,  Mr.  Sharpe,"  said  he.  "I'm  interested 
to  know  just  what  you  will  do,  because  we're  going  to 


OLD   JOHN    BURNIT'S    SON          299 

print  the  picture,  connected  with  something  quite  de- 
rogatory. Now  finish  your  threat." 

Sharpe  gazed  at  him  a  moment,  speechless  with 
rage,  and  then  stamped  from  the  office. 

Jolter,  quietly  chuckling,  turned  to  Bobby. 

"I  guess  you'll  do,"  he  commented.  "If  you  last 
long  enough  you'll  win." 

"Thanks,"  said  Cobby  dryly,  and  then  he  smiled. 
"Say,  Jolter,"  he  added,  "it's  bully  fun  being  angry. 
I'm  just  beginning  to  realize  what  I  have  been  miss- 
ing all  these  years.  Go  ahead  with  Sharpe's  picture 
and  print  anything  you  please  about  him.  I  guess 
you  can  secure  enough  material  without  going  out  of 
the  office,  and  if  you  can't  I'll  supply  you  with  some." 

Jolter  looked  at  his  watch  and  hurried  for  the  door. 
Minutes  were  precious  if  he  wanted  to  get  that  Sharpe 
cut  made  in  time  for  the  afternoon  edition.  At  the 
door,  however,  he  turned  a  bit  anxiously. 

"I  suppose  you  carry  a  gun,  don't  you?" 

"By  no  means,"  said  Bobby.  "Never  owned  one." 

"I'd  advise  you  to  get  a  good  one  at  once,"  and 
Jolter  hurried  away. 

That  evening's  edition  of  the  Bulletin  contained  a 
beautiful  half-tone  of  Mr.  Sharpe.  Above  it  was 
printed:  "The  Bulletin's  Rogues'  Gallery,"  and  be- 
neath was  the  caption :  "Hadn't  this  man  better  go, 
too?" 


CHAPTER  XXIY 

EDITOR  BURNIT  DISCOVERS  THAT  HE  IS  FIGHTING  AN 
ENTIRE   CITY    INSTEAD    OF    ONE    MAN 

AT  four  o'clock  of  that  same  day  Mr.  Brown 
came  in,  and  Mr.  Brown  was  grinning.   In 
the  last  three  days  a  grin  had  become  the 
trade-mark  of  the  office,  for  the  staff  of  the  Bulletin 
was  enjoying  itself  as  never  before  in  all  its  history. 
"Stone's  in  my  office,"  said  Brown.   "Wants  to  see 
you." 

Bobby  was  interestedly  leafing  over  the  pages  of 
the  Bulletin.  He  looked  leisurely  at  his  watch  and 
yawned. 

"Tell  Mr.  Stone  that  I  am  busy,  but  that  I  will 
receive  him  in  fifteen  minutes,"  he  directed,  where- 
upon Mr.  Brown,  appreciating  the  joke,  grinned  still 
more  expansively  and  withdrew. 

Bobby,  as  calmly  as  he  could,  went  on  with  his 
perusal  of  the  Bulletin.    To  deny  that  he  was  some- 
what tense  over  the  coming  interview  would  be  foolish. 
Never  had  a  quarter  of  an  hour  dragged  so  slowly, 
300 


EDITOR    BURNIT'S    FIGHT  301 

but  he  waited  it  out,  with  five  minutes  more  on  top  of 
it,  and  then  he  telephoned  to  Brown  to  know  if  Stone 
was  still  there.  He  was  relieved  to  find  that  he  was. 

"Tell  him  to  come  in,"  he  ordered. 

If  Stone  was  inwardly  fuming  when  he  entered  the 
room  he  gave  no  indication  of  it.  His  heavy  face  bore 
only  his  habitually  sullen  expression,  his  heavy-lidded 
eyes  bore  only  their  usual  somberness,  his  heavy  brow 
had  in  it  no  crease  other  than  those  that  time  had 
graven  there.  With  the  deliberateness  peculiar  to  him 
he  planted  his  heavy  body  in  a  big  arm-chair  opposite 
to  Bobby,  without  removing  his  hat. 

"I  don't  believe  in  beating  around  the  bush,  Mr." 
Burnit,"  said  he,  with  a  glance  over  his  shoulder  to 
make  sure  that  the  door  was  closed.  "Of  course  you're 
after  something.  What  do  you  want?" 

Bobby  looked  at  him  in  wonder.  He  had  heard  much 
of  Stone's  bluntness,  and  now  he  was  fascinated  by  it. 
Nevertheless,  he  did  not  forget  his  own  viewpoint. 

"Oh,  I  don't  want  much,"  he  observed  pleasantly, 
"only  just  your  scalp;  yours  and  the  scalps  of  a  few 
others  who  gave  me  my  education,  from  Silas  Trimmer 
up  and  down.  I  think  one  of  the  things  that  aggra- 
vated me  most  was  the  recent  elevation  of  Trimmer  to 
the  chairmanship  of  your  waterworks  commission. 
Trivial  as  it  was,  this  probably  had  as  much  to  do 
with  my  sudden  determination  to  wipe  you  gut,  as 


302    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

your  having  the  Brightlight's  poles  removed  from 
Market  Street." 

Stone  laid  a  heavy  hand  easily  upon  Bobby's  desk. 
It  was  a  strong  hand,  a  big  hand,  brown  and  hairy, 
and  from  the  third  pudgy  finger  glowed  a  huge  dia- 
mond. 

"As  far  as  Trimmer  is  concerned,"  said  he,  quite 
undisturbed,  "you  can  have  his  head  any  minute.  He's 
a  mutt." 

"You  don't  need  to  give  me  Mr.  Trimmer's  head," 
replied  Bobby,  quite  as  calmly.  "I  intend  to  get  that 
myself." 

"And  as  for  the  Brightlight,"  continued  Stone  as 
if  he  had  not  been  interrupted,  "I  sent  Sharpe  over 
to  see  you  about  that  this  morning.  I  think  we  can 
fix  it  so  that  you  can  get  back  your  two  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand.  The  deal's  been  worth  a  lot  more  than 
that  to  the  Consolidated." 

"No  doubt,"  agreed  Bobby.  "However,  I'm  not 
looking,  at  the  present  moment,  for  a  sop  to  the 
Brightlight  Company.  It  will  be  time  enough  for  that 
when  I  have  forced  the  Consolidated  into  the  hands  of 
a  receiver." 

Stone  looked  at  Bobby  thoughtfully  between  nar- 
rowed eyelids. 

"Look  here,  young  fellow,"  said  he  presently. 
"Now,  you  take  it  from  me,  and  I  have  been  through 


EDITOR    BURNIT'S    FIGHT  303 

the  mill,  that  there  ain't  any  use  holding  a  grouch. 
The  mere  doing  damage  don't  get  you  anything  un- 
less it's  to  whip  somebody  else  into  line  with  a  warn- 
ing. I  take  it  that  this  ain't  what  you're  trying  to  do. 
You  think  you're  simply  playing  a  grouch  game, 
table  stakes ;  but  if  you'll  simmer  down  you'll  find 
you've  got  a  price.  Now,  I'd  rather  have  you  with 
me  than  against  me.  If  you'll  just  say  what  you  want 
I'll  get  it  for  you  if  it's  in  reach.  But  don't  froth. 
I've  cleaned  up  as  much  money  as  your  daddy  did, 
just  by  keeping  my  temper." 

"I'm  going  to  keep  mine,  too,"  Bobby  informed  him 
quite  cheerfully.  "I  have  just  found  that  I  have  one, 
and  I  like  it." 

Stone  brushed  this  triviality  aside  with  a  wave  of 
his  heavy  hand. 

"Quit  kidding,"  he  said,  "and  come  out  with  it.  I 
see  you're  no  piker,  anyhow.  You're  playing  for  big 
game.  What  is  it  you  want?" 

"As  I  said  before,  not  very  much,"  declared  Bobby. 
"I  only  want  to  grind  your  machine  into  powder.  I 
want  to  dig  up  the  rotten  municipal  control  of  this 
city,  root  and  branch.  I  want  to  ferret  out  every  bit 
of  crookedness  in  which  you  have  been  concerned,  and 
every  bit  that  you  have  caused.  I  want  to  uncover 
every  man,  high  or  low,  for  just  what  he  is,  and  I 
don't  care  how  well  protected  he  is  nor  how  shining 


304    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

his  reputation,  if  he's  concerned  in  a  crooked  deal  I'm 
going  after  him — " 

"There  won't  be  many  of  us  left,"  Stone  inter- 
rupted with  a  smile. 

" — I  want  to  get  back  some  of  the  money  you  have 
stolen  from  this  city,"  continued  Bobby ;  "and  I  want, 
last  of  all,  to  drive  you  out  of  this  town  for  good." 

Stone  rose  with  a  sigh. 

"This  is  the  only  chance  I'll  give  you  to  climb  in 
with  the  music,"  he  rumbled.  "I've  kept  off  three 
days,  figuring  out  where  you  were  leading  to  and  what 
you  were  after.  Now,  last  of  all,  what  will  you  take 
to  call  it  off?" 

"I  have  told  you  the  price,"  said  Bobby. 

"Then  you're  looking  for  trouble  and  you  must 
have  it,  eh?" 

"I  suppose  I  must." 

"Then  you'll  get  it,"  and  without  the  sign  of  a 
frown  upon  his  brow  Mr.  Stone  left  the  office. 

The  next  morning  things  began  to  happen.  The 
First  National  Bank  called  up  the  business  office  of 
the  Bulletin  and  ordered  its  advertisement  discontin- 
ued. Not  content  alone  with  that,  President  De  Graff 
called  up  Bobby  personally,  and  in  a  very  cold  and 
dignified  voice  told  him  that  the  First  National  was 
compelled  to  withdraw  its  patronage  on  account  of  the 
undignified  personal  attacks  in  which  the  Bulletin  was 


EDITOR    BURNIT'S    FIGHT  305 

indulging.  Bobby  whistled  softly.  He  knew  De  Graff 
quite  well;  they  were,  in  fact,  upon  most  intimate 
terms,  socially. 

"I  should  think,  De  Graff,"  Bobby  remonstrated, 
"that  of  all  people  the  banks  should  be  glad  to  have 
all  this  crookedness  rooted  out  of  the  city.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  I  intended  shortly  to  ask  your  cooperation 
in  the  formation  of  a  citizens'  committee  to  insure  hon- 
est politics." 

"I  really  could  not  take  any  active  part  in  such  a 
movement,  Mr.  Burnit,"  returned  De  Graff,  still  more 
coldly.  "The  conservatism  necessary  to  my  position 
forbids  my  connection  with  any  sensational  publicity 
whatsoever." 

An  hour  later,  Crone,  the  advertising  manager, 
came  up  to  Bobby  very  much  worried,  to  report  that 
not  only  the  First  National  but  the  Second  Market 
Bank  had  stopped  their  advertising,  as  had  Trimmer 
and  Company,  and  another  of  the  leading  dry-goods 
firms. 

"Of  course,"  said  Crone,  "your  editorial  policy  is 
your  own,  but  I'm  afraid  that  it  is  going  to  be  ruinous 
to  your  advertising." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  admitted  Bobby  dryly,  and 
that  was  all  the  satisfaction  he  gave  Crone;  but  in- 
wardly he  was  somewhat  disturbed. 

He  had  not  thought  of  the  potency  of  this  line  of 


306    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

attack.  While  he  knew  nothing  of  the  newspaper  busi- 
ness, he  had  already  made  sure  that  the  profit  was  in 
the  advertising.  He  sent  for  Jolter. 

"Ben,"  he  asked,  "what  is  the  connection  between 
the  First  National  and  the  Second  Market  Banks  and 
Sam  Stone?" 

"Money,"  said  the  managing  editor  promptly. 
"Both  banks  are  depositories  of  city  funds." 

"I  see,"  said  Bobby  slowly.  "Do  any  other  banks 
enjoy  this  patronage?" 

"The  Merchants'  and  the  Planters'  and  Traders' 
hold  the  county  funds,  which  are  equally  at  Stone's 
disposal." 

Bobby  heard  this  news  in  silence,  and  Jolter,  after 
looking  at  him  narrowly  for  a  moment,  added : 

"I'll  tell  you  something  else.  Not  one  of  the  four 
banks  pays  to  the  city  or  the  county  one  penny  of 
interest  on  these  deposits.  This  is  well  known  to  the 
newspapers,  but  none  of  them  has  dared  use  it." 

"Go  after  them,"  said  Bobby. 

"Moreover,  it  is  strongly  suspected  that  the  banks 
pay  interest  privately  to  Stone,  through  a  small  and 
select  ring  in  the  court-house  and  in  the  city  hall." 

"Go  after  them." 

"I  suppose  you  know  the  men  who  will  be  involved 
in  this,"  said  Jolter. 

"Some  of  my  best  friends,  I  expect,"  said  Bobby. 


EDITOR    BURNIT'S    FIGHT  307 

"And  some  of  the  most  influential  citizens  in  this 
town,"  retorted  Jolter.  "They  can  ruin  the  Bulletin 
They  could  ruin  any  business." 

"The  thing's  crooked,  isn't  it?"  demanded  Bobby. 

"As  a  dog's  hind  leg." 

"Go  after  them,  Jolter!"  Bobby  reiterated.  Then 
he  laughed  aloud.  "De  Graff  just  telephoned  me  that 
'the  conservatism  of  his  position  forbids  him  to  take 
part  in  any  sensational  publicity  whatsoever.'  " 

Comment  other  than  a  chuckle  was  superfluous  from 
either  one  of  them,  and  Jolter  departed  to  the  city 
editor's  room,  to  bring  joy  to  the  heart  of  the  staff. 

It  was  "Bugs"  RoacK  who  scented  the  far-reaching 
odor  of  this  move  with  the  greatest  joy. 

"You  know  what  this  means,  don't  you?"  he  de- 
lightedly commented.  "A  grand  jury  investigation. 
Oh,  listen  to  the  band!" 

Before  noon  the  Merchants'  and  the  Planters'  and 
Traders'  Banks  had  withdrawn  their  advertisements. 

At  about  the  same  hour  a  particularly  atrocious 
murder  was  committed  in  one  of  the  suburbs.  Up  in 
the  reporters'  room  of  the  police  station,  Thomas,  of 
the  Bulletin,  and  Graham,  of  the  Chronicle,  were  in- 
dulging in  a  quiet  game  of  whist  with  two  of  the  morn- 
ing newspaper  boys,  when  a  roundsman  stepped  to  the 
door  and  called  Graham  out.  Graham  came  back  a 
moment  later  after  his  coat,  with  such  studied  non- 


308    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

chalance  that  the  other  boys,  eternally  suspicious  as 
police  reporters  grow  to  be,  looked  at  him  narrowly, 
and  Thomas  asked  him,  also  with  studied  nonchalance : 

"The  candy-store  girl,  or  the  one  in  the  laundry 
office?" 

"Business,  young  fellow,  business,"  returned  Gra- 
ham loftily.  "I  guess  the  Chronicle  knows  when  it  has 
a  good  man.  I'm  called  into  the  office  to  save  the  paper. 
They're  sending  a  cub  down  to  cover  the  afternoon. 
Don't  scoop  him,  old  man." 

"Not  unless  I  get  a  chance,"  promised  Thomas,  but 
after  Graham  had  gone  he  went  down  to  the  desk  and, 
still  unsatisfied,  asked : 

"Anything  doing,  Lieut.?" 

"Dead  as  a  door-nail,"  replied  the  lieutenant,  and 
Thomas,  still  with  an  instinct  that  something  was 
wrong,  still  sensitive  to  a  certain  suppressed  tingling 
excitement  about  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  place, 
went  slowly  back  to  the  reporters'  room,  where  he 
spent  a  worried  half -hour. 

The  noonday  edition  of  the  Chronicle  carried,  in 
the  identical  columns  devoted  in  the  Bulletin  to  a  fur- 
ther attack  on  Stone,  a  lurid  account  of  the  big  mur- 
ider;  and  the  Bulletin  had  not  a  line  of  it!  A  sharp 
call  from  Brown  to  Thomas,  at  central  police,  ap- 
prised the  latter  that  he  had  been  "scooped,"  and 
brought  out  the  facts  in  the  case.  Thomas  hurried 


EDITOR    BURNIT'S    FIGHT  309 

down-stairs  and  bitterly  upbraided  Lieutenant  Cas- 
per. 

"Look  here,  you  Thomas,"  snapped  Casper;  "you 
Bulletin  guys  have  been  too  fresh  around  here  for  a 
long  time." 

In  Casper's  eyes — Casper  with  whom  he  had  al- 
ways been  on  cordial  joking  terms — he  saw  cruel  im- 
placability, and,  furious,  he  knew  himself  to  be  "in" 
for  that  most  wearing  of  all  newspaper  jobs — "doing 
police"  for  a  paper  that  was  "in  bad"  with  the  ad- 
ministration. He  needed  no  one  to  tell  him  the  cause. 
At  three-thirty,  Thomas,  and  Camden,  who  was  doing 
the  city  hall,  and  Greenleaf  Whittier  Squiggs,  who 
was  subing  for  the  day  on  the  courts,  appeared  before 
Jim  Brown  in  an  agonized  body.  Thomas  had  been 
scooped  on  the  big  murder,  Camden  and  G.  W. 
Squiggs  had  been  scooped,  at  the  city  hall  and  the 
county  building,  on  the  only  items  worth  while,  and 
they  were  all  at  white  heat ;  though  it  was  a  great  con- 
solation to  Squiggs,  after  all,  to  find  himself  in  such 
distinguished  company. 

Brown  heard  them  in  silence,  and  with  great  sol- 
emnity conducted  them  across  the  hall  to  Jolter,  who 
also  heard  them  in  silence  and  conducted  them  into 
the  adjoining  room  to  Bobby.  Here  Jolter  stood 
back  and  eyed  young  Mr.  Burnit  with  great  interest 
as  his  two  experienced  veterans  and  his  ambitious 


310    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

youngster  poured  forth  their  several  tales  of  woe. 
Bobby,  as  it  became  him  to  be,  was  much  disturbed. 

"How's  the  circulation  of  the  Bulletin?"  he  asked 
of  Jolter. 

"Five  times  what  it  ever  was  in  its  history,"  re- 
sponded Jolter. 

"Do  you  suppose  we  can  hold  it?" 

"Possibly." 

"How  much  does  a  scoop  amount  to?" 

"Well,"  confessed  Jolter,  with  his  eyes  twinkling, 
"I  hate  to  tell  you  before  the  boys,  but  my  own  opin- 
ion is  that  we  know  it  and  the  Chronicle  knows  it  and 
Stone  knows  it,  but  day  after  to-morrow  the  public 
couldn't  tell  you  on  its  sacred  oath  whether  it  read  the 
first  account  of  the  murder  in  the  Bulletin  or  in  the 
Chronicle." 

Bobby  heaved  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  always  had  the  impression  that  a  'beat'  meant 
the  death,  cortege  and  cremation  of  the  newspaper 
that  fell  behind  in  the  race,"  he  smiled.  "Boys,  I'm 
afraid  you'll  have  to  stand  it  for  a  while.  Do  the 
best  you  can  and  get  beaten  as  little  as  possible.  By 
the  way,  Jolter,  I  want  to  see  you  a  minute,"  and  the 
mournful  delegation  of  three,  no  whit  less  mournful 
because  they  had  been  assured  that  they  would  not 
be  held  accountable  for  being  scooped,  filed  out. 

"What's   the   connection,"   demanded    Bobby,   the 


EDITOR    BURNIT'S    FIGHT  311 

minute  they  were  alone,  "between  the  police  depart- 
ment and  Sam  Stone?" 

"Money !"  replied  Jolter.  "Chief  of  Police  Cooley 
is  in  reality  chief  collector.  The  police  graft  is  one 
of  the  richest  Stone  has.  The  rake-off  from  saloons 
that  are  supposed  to  close  at  one  and  from  crooked 
gambling  joints  and  illegal  resorts  of  various  kinds, 
amounts,  I  suppose,  to  not  less  than  ten  to  fifteen 
thousand  dollars  a  week.  Of  course,  the  patrolmen 
get  some,  but  the  bulk  of  it  goes  to  Cooley,  who  was 
appointed  by  Stone,  and  the  biggest  slice  of  all  goes 
to  the  Boss." 

"Go  after  Cooley,"  said  Bobby.  Then  suddenly  he 
struck  his  fist  upon  the  desk.  "Great  Heavens,  man !" 
he  exclaimed.  "At  the  end  of  every  avenue  and  street 
and  alley  that  I  turn  down  with  the  Bulletin  I  find  an 
open  sewer." 

"The  town  is  pretty  well  supplied,"  admitted 
Jolter.  "How  do  you  feel  now  about  your  policy?" 

"Pretty  well  staggered,"  confessed  Bobby;  "but 
we're  going  through  with  the  thing  just  the  same." 

"It's  a  man's-size  job,"  declared  Jolter;  "but  if 
you  get  away  with  it  the  Bulletin  will  be  the  best- 
paying  piece  of  newspaper  property  west  of  New 
York." 

"Not  the  way  the  advertising's  going,"  said  Bobby, 
shaking  his  head  and  consulting  a  list  on  his  desk. 


312    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Where  has  Stone  a  hold  on  the  dry-goods  firm  of 
Rolands  and  Crawford?" 

"They  built  out  circular  show-windows,  all  around 
their  big  block,  and  these  extend  illegally  upon  two 
feet  of  the  sidewalk." 

"And  how  about  the  Ebony  Jewel  Coal  Company?" 

"They  have  been  practically  allowed  to  close  up 
Second  Street,  from  Water  to  Canal,  for  a  dump." 

Bobby  sighed  hopelessly. 

"We  can't  fight  everybody  in  town,"  he  com- 
plained. 

"Yes,  but  we  can !"  exclaimed  Jolter  with  a  sudden 
fire  that  surprised  Bobby,  since  it  was  the  first  the 
managing  editor  displayed.  "Don't  weaken,  Burnit ! 
I'm  with  you  in  this  thing,  heart  and  soul!  If  we 
can  hold  out  until  next  election  we  will  sweep  every- 
thing before  us." 

"We  will  hold  out !"  declared  Bobby. 

"I  am  so  sure  of  it  that  I'll  stand  treat,"  assented 
Mr.  Jolter  with  vast  enthusiasm,  and  over  an  old  oak 
table,  in  a  quiet  place,  Mr.  Jolter  and  Mr.  Burnit, 
having  found  the  sand  in  each  other's  craws,  cemented 
a  pretty  strong  liking. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AN  EXCITING  GAME  OF  TIT  FOE  TAT  WITH  HIRED  THUGS 

THE  Bulletin,  continuing  its  warfare  upon 
Stone  and  every  one  who  supported  him,  hit 
upon  names  that  had  never  before  been  men- 
tioned but  in  terms  of  the  highest  respect,  and  divers 
and  sundry  complacent  gentlemen  who  attended 
church  quite  regularly  began  to  look  for  a  cyclone 
cellar.  They  were  compromised  with  Stone  and  they 
could  not  placate  Bobby.  The  four  banks  that  had 
withdrawn  their  advertisements,  after  a  hasty  confer- 
ence with  Stone  put  them  back  again  the  first  day 
their  names  were  mentioned.  The  business  depart- 
ment of  the  Bulletin  cheerfully  accepted  those  ad- 
vertisements at  the  increased  rate  justified  by  the 
Bulletin's  increased  circulation;  but  the  editorial  de- 
partment just  as  cheerfully  kept  castigating  the 
erring  conservators  of  the  public  money,  and  the  ad- 
vertisements disappeared  again. 

Bobby's  days  now  were  beset  from  a  hundred  quar- 
ters with   agonized   appeals   to   change   his   policy. 
313 


314    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

This  man  and  that  man  and  the  other  man  high  in 
commercial  and  social  and  political  circles  came  to 
him  with  all  sorts  of  pressure,  and  even  Payne  Win- 
throp  and  Nick  Allstyne,  two  of  his  particular  cro- 
nies of  the  Idlers',  not  being  able  to  catch  him  at  the 
club  any  more,  came  up  to  his  office. 

"This  won't  do,  old  man,"  protested  Payne ;  "we're 
missing  you  at  billiards  and  bridge  whist,  but  your 
refusal  to  take  part  in  the  coming  polo  tourney  was 
the  last  straw.  You're  getting  to  be  a  regular  plebe." 

"I  am  a  plebe,"  admitted  Bobby.  "What's  the 
use  to  deny  it?  My  father  was  a  plebe.  He  came 
off"  the  farm  with  no  earthly  possessions  more  valuable 
than  the  patches  on  his  trousers.  I  am  one  genera- 
tion from  the  soil,  and  since  I  have  turned  over  a 
furrow  or  two,  just  plain  earth  smells  good  to  me." 

Both  of  Bobby's  friends  laughed.  They  liked  him 
too  well  to  take  him  seriously  in  this. 

"But  really,"  said  Nick,  returning  to  the  attack, 
"the  boys  at  the  club  were  talking  over  the  thing  and 
think  this  rather  bad  form,  this  sort  of  a  fight  you're 
making.  You're  bound  to  become  involved  in  a  nasty 
controversy." 

"Yes?"  inquired  Bobby  pleasantly.  "Watch  me 
become  worse  involved.  More  than  that,  I  think  I 
shall  come  down  to  the  Idlers',  when  I  get  things 
straightened  out  here,  organize  a  club  league  and 


AN    EXCITING    GAME  315 

make  you  fellows  march  with  banners  and  torch- 
lights." 

This  being  a  more  hilarious  joke  than  the  other 
the  boys  laughed  quite  politely,  though  Payne  Win- 
throp  grew  immediately  serious  again. 

"But  we  can't  lose  you,  Bobby,"  he  insisted.  "We 
want  you  to  quit  this  sort  of  business  and  come  back 
again  to  the  old  crowd.  There  are  so  few  of  us  left, 
you  know,  that  we're  getting  lonesome.  Stan  Rogers 
is  getting  up  a  glorious  hunt  and  he  wants  us  all  to 
come  up  to  his  lodge  for  a  month  at  least.  You  should 
be  tired  of  this  by  now,  anyhow." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  declared  Bobby. 

"Oh,  of  course,  you  have  your  money  involved," 
admitted  Payne,  "and  you  must  play  it  through  on 
that  account;  but  I'll  tell  you:  if  you  do  want  to 
sell  I  know  where  I  could  find  a  buyer  for  you  at  a 
profit." 

Bobby  turned  on  him  like  a  flash. 

"Look  here,  Payne,"  said  he.  "Where  is  your  in- 
terest in  this?" 

"My  interest?"  repeated  Payne  blankly. 

"Yes,  your  interest.  What  have  you  to  gain  by 
having  me  sell  out?" 

"Why,  really,  Bobby — "  began  Payne,  thinking  to 
temporize. 

"You're  here  for  that  purpose,  and  must  tell  me 


316    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

why,"  insisted  Bobby  sternly,  tapping  his  finger  on 
the  desk. 

"Well,  if  you  must  know,"  stammered  Payne,  taken 
out  of  himself  by  sheer  force  of  Bobby's  manner, 
"my  respected  and  revered — " 

"I  see,"  said  Bobby. 

"The — the  pater  is  thinking  of  entering  politics 
next  year,  and  he  rather  wants  an  organ." 

"And  Nick,  where's  yours?" 

"Well,"  confessed  Nick,  with  no  more  force  of 
reservation  than  had  Payne  when  mastery  was  used 
upon  him,  "mother's  city  property  and  mine,  you 
know,  contains  some  rather  tumbledown  buildings  that 
are  really  good  for  a  number  of  years  yet,  but  which 
adverse  municipal  government  might — might  depre- 
ciate in  value." 

"Just  a  minute,"  said  Bobby,  and  he  sent  for 
Jolter. 

"Ben,"  he  asked,  "do  you  know  anything  about  Mr. 
Adam  Winthrop's  political  aspirations?" 

"I  understand  he's  being  groomed  for  governor," 
said  Jolter. 

"Meet  his  son,  Mr.  Jolter — Mr.  Payne  Winthrop. 
Also  Mr.  Nick  Allstyne.  I  suppose  Mr.  Winthrop 
is  to  run  on  Stone's  ticket?"  continued  Bobby,  break- 
ing in  upon  the  formalities  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"Certainly." 


AN   EXCITING   GAME  317 

"Payne,"  said  Bobby,  "if  your  father  wants  to 
talk  with  me  about  the  Bulletin  he  must  come  himself. 
Jolter,  do  you  know  where  the  Allstyne  properties 
are?" 

Jolter  looked  at  Nick  and  Nick  colored. 

"That's  rather  a  blunt  question,  under  the  circum- 
stances, Mr.  Burnit,"  said  Jolter,  "but  I  don't  see 
why  it  shouldn't  be  answered  as  bluntly.  It's  a  row 
of  two  blocks  on  the  most  notorious  street  of  the  town, 
frame  shacks  that  are  likely  to  be  the  start  of  a 
holocaust,  any  windy  night,  which  will  sweep  the 
entire  down-town  district.  They  should  have  been 
condemned  years  ago." 

"Nick,"  said  Bobby,  "I'll  give  you  one  month  to 
dispose  of  that  property,  because  after  that  length 
of  time  I'm  going  after  it." 

This  was  but  a  sample.  Bobby  had  at  last  become 
suspicious,  and  as  old  John  Burnit  had  shrewdly 
observed  in  one  of  his  letters:  "It  hurts  to  acquire 
suspiciousness,  but  it  is  quite  necessary ;  only  don't 
overdo  it." 

Bobby,  however,  was  in  a  field  where  suspiciousness 
could  scarcely  be  overdone.  When  any  man  came 
to  protest  or  to  use  influence  on  Bobby  in  his  fight, 
Bobby  took  the  bull  by  the  horns,  called  for  Jolter, 
who  was  a  mine  of  information  upon  local  affairs,  and 
promptly  found  out  the  reason  for  that  man's  inter- 


318    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

est;  whereupon  he  either  warned  him  off  or  attacked 
him,  and  made  an  average  of  ten  good,  healthy  ene- 
mies a  day.  He  scared  Adam  Winthrop  out  of  the 
political  race  entirely,  he  made  the  Allstynes  tear 
down  their  fire-traps  and  erect  better-paying  and  con- 
sequently more  desirable  tenements,  and  he  had  De 
Graff  and  the  other  involved  bankers  "staggering  in 
circles  and  hoarsely  barking,"  as  "Bugs"  Roach 
put  it. 

So  far,  Bobby  had  been  subjected  to  no  personal 
annoyances,  but  on  the  day  after  his  first  attack  on 
the  chief  of  police  he  began  to  be  arrested  for  break- 
ing the  speed  laws,  and  fined  the  limit,  even  though  he 
drove  his  car  but  eight  miles  an  hour,  while  his  news 
carriers  and  his  employees  were  "pinched"  upon  the 
most  trivial  pretexts.  Libel  suits  were  brought  wher- 
ever a  merchant  or  an  official  had  a  record  clear 
enough  to  risk  such  procedure,  and  three  of  these 
suits  were  decided  against  him;  whereupon  Bobby, 
finding  the  money  chain  which  bound  certain  of  the 
judges  to  Sam  Stone,  promptly  attacked  these  mem- 
bers of  the  judiciary  and  appealed  his  cases. 

His  very  name  became  a  red  rag  to  every  member 
of  Stone's  crowd ;  but  up  to  this  point  no  violence  had 
been  offered  him.  One  night,  however,  as  he  was  driv- 
ing his  own  car  homeward,  men  on  the  watch  for  him 
stepped  out  of  an  alley  mouth  two  blocks  above  the 


AN    EXCITING    GAME  319 

Burnit  residence  and  strewed  the  street  thickly  with 
sharp-pointed  coil  springs.  One  of  these  caught  a 
tire,  and  Bobby,  always  on  the  alert  for  the  first  sign 
of  such  accidents,  brought  his  car  to  a  sudden  stop, 
reached  down  for  his  tire- wrench  and  jumped  out. 
Just  as  he  stooped  over  to  examine  the  tire,  some  in- 
stinct warned  him,  and  he  turned  quickly  to  find  three 
men  coming  upon  him  from  the  alley,  the  nearest  one 
with  an  uplifted  slung-shot.  It  was  with  just  a 
glance  from  the  corner  of  his  eye  as  he  turned  that 
Bobby  caught  the  import  of  the  figure  towering  above 
him,  and  then  his  fine  athletic  training  came  in  good 
stead.  With  a  sidewise  spring  he  was  out  of  the 
sphere  of  that  descending  blow,  and,  swinging  with 
his  heavy  wrench,  caught  the  fellow  a  smash  upon  the 
temple  which  laid  him  unconscious.  Before  the  two 
other  men  had  time  to  think,  he  was  upon  them  and 
gave  one  a  broken  shoulder-blade.  The  other  es- 
caped. There  had  been  no  word  from  any  of  the 
three  men  which  might  lead  to  an  explanation  of  this 
attack,  but  Bobby  needed  no  explanation;  he  divined 
at  once  the  source  from  which  it  came,  and  in  the 
morning  he  sent  for  Biff  Bates. 

"Biff,"  said  he,  "I  spoke  once  about  securing  some 
thugs  to  act  as  a  counter-irritant  against  Stone,  but 
I  have  neglected  it.  How  long  will  it  take  to  get  hold 
of  some?" 


320    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Ten  minutes,  if  I  wait  till  dark,"  replied  Biff.  "I 
can  go  down  to  the  Blue  Star,  and  for  ten  iron  men 
apiece  can  get  you  as  fine  a  bunch  of  yeggs  as  ever 
beat  out  a  cripple's  brains  with  his  own  wooden  leg." 

Bobby  smiled. 

"I  don't  want  them  to  go  quite  that  far,"  he  ob- 
jected. "Are  they  men  you  can  depend  upon  not  to 
sell  out  to  Stone?" 

"Just  one  way,"  replied  Biff.  "The  choice  line  of 
murderers  that  hang  out  down  around  the  levee  are 
half  of  them  sore  on  Stone,  anyhow;  but  they're 
afraid  of  him,  and  the  only  way  you  can  use  them 
is  to  give  'em  enough  to  get  'em  out  of  town.  For 
ten  a  throw  you  can  buy  them  body  and  soul." 

"I'll  take  about  four,  to  start  on  duty  to-night,  and 
stay  on  duty  till  they  accomplish  what  I  want  done," 
and  Bobby  detailed  his  plan  to  Biff. 

Stone  had  one  peculiarity.  Knowing  that  he  had 
enemies,  and  those  among  the  most  reckless  class  in 
the  world,  he  seldom  allowed  himself  to  be  caught 
alone ;  but  every  night  he  held  counsel  with  some  of 
his  followers  at  a  certain  respectable  beer-garden 
where,  in  the  summer-time,  a  long  table  in  a  quiet, 
half -screened  corner  was  reserved  for  him  and  his  fol- 
lowers, and  in  the  winter  a  back  room  was  given  up 
for  the  same  purpose.  Here  Stone  transacted  all 
the  real  business  of  his  local  organization,  drinking 


AN    EXCITING    GAME  321 

beer,  receiving  strange-looking  callers,  and  confining 
his  own  remarks  to  a  grunted  yes  or  no,  or  a  brief 
direction.  Every  night  at  about  nine-thirty  he  rose, 
yawned,  and,  unattended,  walked  back  through  the 
beer-garden  to  the  alley,  where  he  stood  for  some  five 
minutes.  This  was  his  retreat  for  uninterrupted 
thought,  and  when  he  came  back  from  it  he  had  the 
day's  developments  summed  up  and  the  necessary 
course  of  action  resolved  upon. 

On  the  second  night  after  the  attempted  assault 
upon  Bobby  he  had  no  sooner  closed  the  alley  door 
behind  him  than  a  man  sprang  upon  him  from  either 
side,  a  heavy  hand  was  placed  over  his  mouth,  and  he 
was  dragged  to  the  ground,  where  a  third  brawny 
thug  straddled  his  chest  and  showed  him  a  long 
knife. 

"See  it?"  demanded  the  man  as  he  passed  the  blade 
before  Stone's  eyes.  "It's  hungry.  You  let  'em  clip 
my  brother  in  stir  for  a  three-stretch  when  you  could 
have  saved  him  with  a  grunt,  and  if  I  wasn't  workin' 
under  orders,  in  half  an  hour  they'd  have  you  on  slab 
six  with  ice  packed  around  you  and  a  sheet  over  you. 
But  we're  under  orders.  We're  part  of  the  reform 
committee,  we  are,"  and  all  three  of  them  laughed 
silently,  "and  there's  a  string  of  us  longer  than  the 
Christmas  bread-line,  all  crazy  for  a  piece  of  this  get- 
away coin.  And  here's  the  little  message  I  got  to 


322    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

give  you.  This  time  you're  to  go  free.  Next  time 
you're  to  have  your  head  beat  off.  This  thuggin'  of 
peaceable  citizens  has  got  to  be  stopped;  see?" 

A  low  whistle  from  a  man  stationed  at  the  mouth  of 
the  alley  interrupted  the  speech  which  the  man  with 
the  knife  was  enjoying  so  much,  and  he  sprang  from 
the  chest  of  Stone,  who  had  been  struggling  vainly 
all  this  time.  As  the  man  sprang  up  and  started  to 
run,  he  suddenly  whirled  and  gave  Stone  a  vicious 
kick  upon  the  hip,  and  as  Stone  rose,  another  man 
kicked  him  in  the  ribs.  All  three  of  them  ran,  and 
Stone,  scrambling  to  his  feet  with  difficulty,  whipped 
his  revolver  from  his  pocket  and  snapped  it.  Long 
disused,  however,  the  trigger  stuck,  but  he  took  after 
them  on  foot  in  spite  of  the  pain  of  the  two  fearful 
kicks  that  he  had  received.  Instead  of  darting 
straight  out  of  the  alley,  the  men  turned  in  at  a  small 
gate  at  the  side  of  a  narrow  building  on  the  corner, 
and  slammed  the  gate  behind  them.  He  could  hear 
the  drop  of  the  wooden  bolt.  He  knew  perfectly  that 
entrance.  It  was  to  the  littered  back  yard  of  a  cheap 
Saloon,  at  the  side  of  which  ran  a  narrow  passageway 
to  the  street  beyond,  where  street-cars  passed  every 
half-minute. 

Just  as  he  came  furiously  up  to  the  gate  a  police- 
man darted  in  at  the  alley  mouth,  and,  catching  the 
glint  of  Stone's  revolver,  whipped  his  own.  He 


AN   EXCITING   GAME  323 

/ 

ran  quite  fearlessly  to  Stone,  and  with  a  3extrous 
blow  upon  the  wrist  sent  the  revolver  spinning. 

"You're  under  arrest,"  said  he. 

For  just  one  second  he  covered  his  man,  then  his 
arm  dropped  and  his  jaw  opened  in  astonishment. 

"Why,  it's  Stone !"  he  exclaimed. 

"Yes,  damn  you,  it's  Stone!"  screamed  the  Boss, 
livid  with  fury,  and  overcome  with  anger  he  dealt  the 
policeman  a  staggering  blow  in  the  face.  "You 
damned  flat-foot,  I'll  teach  you  to  notice  who  you  put 
your  hands  on !  Give  me  that  badge !" 

White-faced  and  with  trembling  fingers,  and  with  a 
trickle  of  blood  starting  slowly  from  a  cut  upon  his 
cheek,  the  man  unfastened  his  badge. 

"Now,  go  back  to  Cooley  and  tell  him  I  broke  you," 
Stone  ordered,  and  turned  on  his  heel. 

By  the  time  he  reached  the  back  door  of  the  beer- 
garden  he  was  limping  most  painfully,  but  when  he 
rejoined  his  crowd  he  said  nothing  of  the  incident. 
In  the  brief  time  that  it  had  taken  him  to  go  from 
the  alley  mouth  to  that  table  he  had  divined  the  sig- 
nificance of  the  whole  thing.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  career  he  knew  himself  to  be  a  systematically 
marked  man,  as  he  had  systematically  marked  others ; 
and  he  was  not  beyond  reason.  Thereafter,  Bobby 
Burnit  was  in  no  more  jeopardy  from  hired  thugs, 
and  for  a  solid  year  he  kept  up  his  fight,  with  plenty 


324    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

of  material  to  last  him  for  still  another  twelvemonth. 
It  was  a  year  which  improved  him  in  many  ways,  but 
Aunt  Constance  Elliston  objected  to  the  improvement. 

"Bobby,  they  are  spoiling  you,"  she  complained. 
"They're  taking  your  suavity  away  from  you,  and 
you're  acquiring  grim,  hard  lines  around  your 
mouth." 

"They're  making  him,"  declared  Agnes,  looking 
fondly  across  at  the  firm  face  and  into  the  clear,  un- 
wavering eyes. 

Bobby  answered  the  look  of  Agnes  with  one  that 
needed  no  words  to  interpret,  and  laughed  at  Aunt 
Constance. 

"I  suppose  they  are  spoiling  me,"  he  confessed, 
"and  I'm  glad  of  it.  I'm  glad,  above  all,  that  I'm 
losing  the  sort  of  suavity  which  led  me  to  smile  and 
tell  a  man  politely  to  take  it,  when  he  reached  his 
hand  into  my  pocket  for  my  money." 

"You'll  do,"  agreed  Uncle  Dan.  "When  you  took 
hold  of  the  Bulletin,  your  best  friends  only  gave  you 
two  months.  But  are  you  making  any  money?" 

Bobby's  face  clouded. 

"Spending  it  like  water.  We  have  practically  no 
advertising,  and  a  larger  circulation  than  I  want. 
We  lose  money  on  every  copy  of  the  paper  that  we 
sell." 

Uncle  Dan  shook  his  head. 


AN   EXCITING    GAME  325 

"Is  there  a  chance  that  you  will  ever  get  it  back?" 
he  asked. 

"Bobby's  so  used  to  failure  that  he  doesn't  mind," 
interjected  Aunt  Constance. 

;  "Mind!"  exclaimed  Bobby.  "I  never  minded  it 
so  much  in  my  life  as  I  do  now.  The  Bulletin  must 
win.  I'm  bound  that  it  shall  win!  If  we  come  out 
ahead  in  our  fight  against  Stone  I'll  get  all  my  ad- 
vertising back,  and  I'll  keep  my  circulation,  which 
makes  advertising  rates." 

The  telephone  bell  rang  in  the  study  adjoining 
the  dining-room,  and  Bobby,  who  had  been  more  or 
less  distrait  all  evening,  half  rose  from  his  chair. 
In  a  moment  more  the  maid  informed  them  that  the 
call  was  for  Mr.  Burnit.  In  the  study  they  could  hear 
his  voice,  excited  and  exultant.  He  returned  as  de- 
lighted as  a  school-boy. 

•  "Now  I  can  tell  you  something,"  he  announced. 
"Within  five  minutes  the  Bulletin  will  have  exclusive 
extras  on  the  street,  announcing  that  the  legislature 
has  just  appointed  a  committee  to  investigate  munici- 
pal affairs  throughout  the  state.  That  means  this 
town.  I  have  spent  ten  thousand  dollars  in  lobbying 
that  measure  through,  and  charged  it  all  to  'improve- 
ments' on  the  Bulletin.  Sounds  like  I  had  joined  the 
ranks  of  the  <boodlers,'  don't  it?  Well,  I  don't  give  a 
cooky  for  ethics  so  long  as  I  know  I'm  right.  I'd 


326    THE  MAKING  OF.  BOBBY  BURNIT 

have  been  a  simp,  as  Biff  Bates  calls  it,  to  go  among 
that  crowd  of  hungry  law  jugglers  with  kind  words 
and  the  ten  commandments.  I'm  not  using  cross- 
bows against  cannon,  and  as  a  result  I'm  winning. 
I  got  my  measure  through,  and  now  I  think  we'll  put 
Stone  and  his  crew  of  freebooters  on  the  grill,  with 
some  extra-hot  coals  for  my  friend  De  Graff  and  the 
other  saintly  sinners  who  have  been  playing  into 
Stone's  hands.  I  have  been  working  a  year  for  this, 
and  the  entire  politics  of  this  town,  with  wide-reaching 
results  in  the  state,  is  disrupted." 

"You  selfish  boy,"  chided  Aunt  Constance.  "You 
have  been  here  with  us  for  more  than  an  hour,  ex- 
pecting this  all  the  time,  and  have  not  breathed  one 
word  of  it  to  us.  Don't  you  trust  anybody  any 
more?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  replied  Bobby  easily;  "but  only  when 
it  is  necessary." 

Agnes  smiled  across  at  him  in  calm  content.  She 
had  but  very  little  to  say  now.  She  was  in  that  bliss- 
ful happiness  that  comes  to  any  woman  when  the  man 
most  in  her  mind  is  reaping  his  meed  of  success  from 
a,  long  and  hard-fought  battle. 

"Spoken  like  your  father,  Bobby,"  laughed  Uncle 
Dan.  "You're  coming  to  look  more  and  more  like  him 
every  day.  You  talk  like  him  and  act  like  him.  You 
have  the  same  snap  of  your  jaws.  Your  father,  how- 


AN   EXCITING   GAME  327 

ever,  never  'dabbled  in  politics.  He  always  despised 
it,  and  I  see  you're  bound  to  be  knee-deep  in  it." 

"My  father  would  have  succeeded  in  politics,"  said 
Bobby  confidently,  "as  he  succeeded  in  everything 
else,  after  he  once  got  started.  I  have  his  confession 
in  writing,  however,  that  he  made  a  few  fool  mistakes 
himself  along  at  first.  As  for  politics,  I  am  in  it 
knee-deep,  and  I'm  going  to  elect  my  own  slate  next 
fall." 

"Another  reform  party,  of  course,"  suggested 
Uncle  Dan  with  a  smile. 

"Not  for  Bobby,"  replied  that  decided  young  gen- 
tleman. "I  am  forming  an  affiliation  with  Cal  Lewis." 

"Cal  Lewis !"  exclaimed  Uncle  Dan  aghast.  Then 
he  closed  his  eyes  and  laughed  softly.  "As  notorious 
in  his  way  as  Sam  Stone  himself.  Why,  Bobby,  that's 
fighting  fire  with  gasolene." 

"It's  setting  a  thief  to  catcH  a  thief.  You  must 
remember  that  for  fifteen  years  Cal  hasn't  had  any 
of  the  pie  except  in  a  minor  way,  and  all  this  time 
he's  been  fighting  Stone  tooth  and  toe-nail.  The  late 
reform  movement,  which  failed  so  lamentably  to  carry 
out  its  gaudy  promises  after  it  had  won,  left  him  en- 
tirely out  of  its  calculations,  and  Lewis  actually 
joined  with  Stone  in  overturning  it.  I  propose  to  use 
Lewis'  knowledge  of  political  machinery,  but  in  my 
own  way.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  already  en- 


328    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

gaged  him  and  put  him  on  salary ;  a  good,  stiff  one, 
too.  His  business  is  to  organize  my  political  machine. 
I'm  going  to  have  a  slate  of  clean  men,  who  will  not 
only  conduct  the  business  of  this  county  and  city  with 
probity  but  with  discretion,  and  I  do  not  mind  telling 
you  that  my  candidate  for  mayor  is  Chalmers." 

Agnes  gave  a  little  cry  of  delight,  and  even  Aunt 
Constance  clapped  her  hands  lightly,  for  Chalmers,  a 
young  lawyer  of  excellent  social  connections,  was  a 
prime  favorite  with  the  Ellistons,  and  in  the  business 
he  had  transacted  for  the  Burnit  estate  Bobby  had 
found  in  him  sterling  qualities. 

"Chalmers  is  a  good  man,"  agreed  Uncle  Dan, 
"though  he  is  young,  and  practically  without  political 
influence ;  but,  if  you  can  make  him  mayor,  I  predict 
a  brilliant  political  future  for  him." 

"He  will  have  it,"  said  Bobby  confidently,  "for  I 
intend  to  make  him  the  attorney  for  the  investigating 
committee,  and  through  his  work  I  expect  to  have 
not  less  than  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  of  stolen 
money  turned  back  into  the  city  and  county 
treasuries." 

As  Bobby  announced  this  he  rose  mechanically, 
and,  still  absorbed  in  the  details  of  his  big  fight, 
walked  out  into  the  hall.  It  was  not  until  he  had  his 
coat  on  and  his  hat  in  his  hand  that  he  came  to  him- 
self ;  and  with  the  deepest  confusion  found  that  he  had 


AN    EXCITING    GAME  329 

been  about  to  walk  out  without  making  any  adieus 
whatever. 

"Why,  where  are  you  going?"  inquired  Agnes,  as 
he  came  back  into  the  drawing-room. 

He  laughed  sheepishly. 

"Why,"  he  explained,  "ever  since  I  received  that 
telephone  message  I  have  been  seeing  before  me  the 
Bulletin  extra  that  they  are  throwing  on  the  street 
right  now,  and  I  forgot  everything  else.  I'll  simply 
have  to  go  down  and  hold  a  copy  of  it  in  my  hands." 

"You're  just  a  big  boy,"  laughed  Aunt  Constance. 
"Will  you  ever  grow  up?" 

"I  hope  not,"  declared  Agnes,  and  taking  his  arm 
she  strolled  with  him  to  the  door  in  perfect  peace  and 
confidence. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MR.  STONE  LEAVES  BOBBY  A  PARTING  COMMISSION  AND 
A  LEFT-HANDED   BLESSING 

IT  looked  good  to  Bobby,  that  late  extra  of  the 
Bulletin,  and  the  force  that  he  had  kept  on  duty 
to  get  it  out  greeted  him,  as  he  walked  through 
the  office,  with  a  running  fire  of  comment  and  con- 
gratulation that  was  almost  like  applause.     He  had 
bought  a  copy  on  the  street  as  he  came  in,  and  as  he 
spread  it  out  there  came  upon  him  a  thrill  of  realiza- 
tion that  this  ought  to  be  the  beginning  of  the  end. 

It  was.  The  fact  that  Bobby,  through  the  Bui* 
letln,  had  forced  this  action,  made  him  a  power  to  be 
reckoned  with ;  and  straws,  whole  bales  of  them,  began 
to  show  which  way  the  wind  was  blowing. 

One  morning  a  delegation  headed  by  the  Reverend 
Doctor  Larynx  waited  upon  him.  The  Reverend 
Doctor  was  a  minister  of  great  ingenuity  and  force, 
who  sought  the  salvation  of  souls  through  such  vital 
topics  as  Shall  Men  Go  Coatless  in  Summer?  The 
Justice  of  Three-Cent  Car  Fares,  and  The  Billboards 
330 


A   PARTING   COMMISSION  331 

i 

Must  Go.  All  public  questions,  civic,  state  or  na- 
tional, were  thoroughly  thrashed  out  in  the  pulpit 
of  the  Reverend  Larynx,  and  turned  adrift  with  the 
seal  of  his  condemnation  or  approval  duly  fixed  upon 
them ;  and  he  managed  to  get  his  name  and  picture  in 
the  papers  almost  as  often  as  the  man  who  took 
eighty-seven  bottles  of  Elixo  and  still  survived.  With 
him  were  four  thoroughly  respectable  men  of  busi- 
ness, two  of  whom  wore  side-whiskers  and  the  other 
two  of  whom  wore  white  bow-ties, 

"Fine  business,  Mr.  Burnit,"  said  the  Reverend 
Doctor  Larynx  in  a  loud,  hearty  voice,  advancing 
with  three  strides  and  clasping  Bobby's  hand  in  a 
vise-like  grip ;  for  he  was  a  red-blooded  minister,  was 
the  Reverend  Doctor  Larynx,  and  he  believed  in 
getting  down  among  the  "pee-pul."  "The  Bulletin 
has  proved  itself  a  mighty  fine  engine  of  reform,  and 
the  reputable  citizens  of  this  municipality  now  see  a 
ray  of  hope  before  them." 

"I'm  afraid  that  the  reputable  citizens,"  ventured 
Bobby,  "have  no  one  but  themselves  to  blame  for  their 
past  hopeless  condition.  They're  too  selfish  to  vote." 

"You  have  hit  the  nail  on  the  head,"  declaimed  the 
Reverend  Larynx  with  a  loud,  hearty  laugh,  "but 
the  Bulletin  will  rouse  them  to  a  sense  of  duty.  Last 
night,  Mr.  Burnit,  the  Utopian  Club  was  formed  with 
an  initial  membership  of  over  seventy,  and  it  selected 


332    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

a  candidate  for  mayor  of  whom'  the  Bulletin  is  bound 
to  approve.  Shake  hands  with  Mr.  Freedom,  the 
Utopian  Club's  candidate  for  mayor,  Mr.  Burnit." 

Bobby  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Freedom  quite  nicely, 
and  studied  him  curiously. 

He  was  one  of  the  two  who  wore  side-whiskers  and 
a  habitual  Prince  Albert,  and  he  displayed  a  phe- 
nomenal length  from  lower  lip  to  chin,  which,  by 
reason  of  his  extremely  high  and  narrow  forehead, 
gave  his  features  the  appearance  of  being  grouped  in 
tiny  spots  somewhere  near  the  center  of  a  long,  yellow 
cylinder.  Mr.  Freedom,  he  afterward  ascertained, 
was  a  respectable  singing-teacher. 

"Professor  Freedom,"  went  on  the  Reverend  Doctor 
Larynx,  still  loudly  and  heartily,  "has  the  time  to 
devote  to  this  office,  as  well  as  the  ideal  qualifications. 
He  has  no  vices  whatever.  He  does  not  even  smoke 
nor  use  tobacco  in  any  form,  and  under  his  regime 
the  saloons  of  this  town  would  be  turned  into  vacant 
store-rooms,  if  there  are  laws  to  make  possible  such 
action." 

"I  do  not  want  the  saloons  put  out  of  business," 
declared  Bobby.  "I  merely  want  them  vacated  at 
twelve  every  night,  without  exception." 

When  Doctor  Larynx  and  his  delegation  went  away 
in  wrath  the  leader  was  already  preparing  his  sermon 
upon  The  Iniquity  of  the  Sons  of  Rich  Fathers. 


A   PARTING    COMMISSION  333 

On  the  following  day  a  delegation  from  the  busi- 
ness men's  club  waited  upon  him.  The  business  men's 
club  wanted  a  business  administration.  This  crowd 
Bobby  handled  differently.  Upon  his  desk,  tabulated 
in  advance  against  just  such  an  emergency,  he  had 
statistics  concerning  all  the  business  men's  adminis- 
trations that  had  been  tried  in  various  cities,  and  he 
submitted  this  statement  without  argument.  It 
needed  none. 

"Politics  is  in  itself  a  distinct  business,"  he  ex- 
plained. "You  would  not  one  of  you  take  up  the 
duties  of  a  surveyor  without  previous  training.  The 
only  trouble  is  that  there  are  no  restrictions  placed 
upon  politicians.  I  propose  to  use  them,  but  to  regu- 
late them." 

He  did  not  convert  the  delegation  by  this  one  inter- 
view, but  he  did  by  cultivating  these  men  and  others 
of  their  kind  separately.  He  ate  luncheons  and  din- 
ners with  them  at  the  Traders'  Club,  played  billiards 
with  them,  smoked  and  talked  with  them ;  and  the  bur- 
den of  his  talk  was  Chalmers.  When  he  finally  got 
ready  for  his  campaign  the  business  men  were  with 
him  unanimously,  at  least  outwardly.  Inwardly,  there 
were  reservations,  for  the  matter  of  special  privileges 
was  one  to  be  very  gravely  considered;  and  special 
privileges,  at  a  price  not  entirely  prohibitive,  was  the 
bulwark  of  Stone's  regime. 


334    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"But  the  Stone  regime,"  Bobby  advised  them, 
coming  brutally  to  the  point  and  telling  them  what  he 
knew  of  their  own  affairs  and  Stone's,  "is  about  to 
come  to  an  end.  The  handwriting  is  on  the  wall,  and 
you  might  just  as  well  climb  into  the  band  wagon, 
for  at  last  I  have  the  public  on  my  side." 

At  last  he  had.  For  a  solid  year  he  had  been  try- 
ing to  understand  the  peculiar  apathy  of  the  public, 
and  he  did  not  understand  it  yet.  They  seemed  to 
like  Stone  and  to  look  upon  his  wholesale  corruption 
as  a  joke;  but  by  constant  hammering,  by  showing 
the  unredeemable  cussedness  of  Stone  and  his  crowd, 
he  had  produced  some  impression — an  impression  that, 
alas !  was  of  the  surface  only — until  the  investigating 
committee  began  its  sessions.  When  it  became  under- 
stood, however,  that  certain  of  the  thieves  might  actu- 
ally be  sent  to  the  penitentiary,  then  who  so  loud  in 
their  denunciation  as  the  public?  Why,  Stone  had 
robbed  them  right  and  left ;  why,  Stone  was  an  enemy 
to  mankind ;  why,  Stone  and  all  his  friends  were  mon- 
sters whom  it  were  a  good  and  a  holy  thing  to  skewer 
and  flay  and  cast  into  everlasting  brimstone ! 

Facts  were  uncovered  that  set  the  entire  city  in  tur- 
moil. More  than  fifty  men  who  had  never  been  born 
had  been  carried  upon  the  city  and  county  pay-rolls, 
and  half  of  their  salaries  went  directly  into  Stone's 
pocket,  the  other  half  going  to  the  men  who  conducted 


A   PARTING    COMMISSION  335 

this  paying  enterprise.  Contracts  for  city  paving 
and  other  improvements  were  let  to  favored  bidders 
at  an  enormous  figure,  and  Stone  personally  had  one- 
fourth  of  the  huge  profits  on  "scamped"  work,  an- 
other fourth  going  to  those  who  arranged  the  details 
and  did  the  collecting.  Innumerable  instances  of 
this  sort  were  brought  out;  but  the  biggest  scandal 
of  all,  in  that  it  involved  men  who  should  have  been 
unassailable,  was  that  of  the  banks.  The  relentless 
probe  brought  out  the  fact  that  all  city  and  county 
funds  had  been  distributed  among  four  banks,  the 
deposits  yielding  no  revenue  whatever  to  either  com- 
monwealth. These  funds,  however,  had  paid  pri- 
vately two  per  cent,  interest,  and  this  interest  was 
paid  in  cash,  in  sealed  envelopes,  to  the  city  and 
county  auditors  and  treasurers,  who  took  the  envelopes 
unbroken  to  Stone  for  distribution.  The  amounts 
thus  diverted  from  the  proper  channels  totaled  to  an 
enormous  figure,  and,  as  this  money  was  the  most  di- 
rect and  approachable,  Chalmers,  who  had  the  inter- 
esting role  of  inquisitor,  set  out  to  get  it.  The  offi- 
cials who  had  been  longest  at  the  crib,  grown  incau- 
tious were  now  men  of  property,  and  by  the  use  of 
red-hot  pincers  Chalmers  was  able  to  restore  nearly 
sixty  thousand  dollars  of  stolen  money,  with  the  possi- 
bility of  more  in  sight. 

It  was  upon  the  heels  of  this  that  Chalmers'  candi- 


336    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

dacy  for  mayor  was  announced,  and  the  manner  in 
which  the  Stone  machine  dropped  to  pieces  was  laugh- 
able. Chalmers,  and  the  entire  slate  so  carefully 
prepared  by  Bobby  in  conjunction  with  the  shrewd 
old  fox,  Cal  Lewis,  won  by  a  majority  so  overwhelm- 
ing as  to  be  almost  unanimous.  Immediately  upon 
Chalmers'  election  heads  began  to  drop,  and  the  first 
to  go  was  Cooley,  chief  of  police,  in  whom,  four  years 
later,  Bobby  recognized  the  driver  of  his  ice  wagon. 
Coincident  with  the  election  came  well-founded  rumors 
of  grand  jury  indictments.  Two  of  Stone's  closest 
and  busiest  lieutenants,  who  were  most  in  danger  of 
being  presented  with  nice  new  suits  of  striped  cloth- 
ing, quietly  converted  their  entire  property  into 
cash  and  then  just  as  quietly  slipped  away  to  Hon- 
duras. 

Late  one  afternoon,  as  Bobby  sat  alone  in  his  room 
in  the  almost  deserted  Bulletin  building,  so  worried 
over  his  business  affairs  that  he  had  no  time  for  ela- 
tion over  his  political  and  personal  triumphs,  the  door 
opened  and  Stone  stood  before  him.  The  pouches 
under  Stone's  eyes  were  heavier  and  darker,  his  cheeks 
drooped  flabbily  and  he  seemed  to  have  fallen  away 
inside  his  clothes,  but  upon  his  face  there  sat  the  same 
stern  impassiveness.  Bobby  instantly  rose,  having 
good  cause  to  want  to  be  well  planted  upon  his  feet 
with  this  man  near  him.  Stone  carefully  closed  the 


A   PARTING   COMMISSION  337 

door  behind  him  and  advanced  to  the  other  side  of 
Bobby's  desk. 

"Well,  you  win,"  he  said  huskily. 

Bobby  drew  a  long  breath. 

"It  has  cost  me  a  lot  of  money,  Mr.  Stone.  It  has 
left  me  almost  flat  broke — but  I  got  you." 

"I  give  you  credit,"  admitted  Stone.  "I  didn't 
think  anybody  could  do  it,  least  of  all  a  kid ;  but  you 
got  me  and  you  got  me  good.  It's  been  a  hard  fight 
for  all  of  us,  I  guess.  I'm  a  little  run  down,"  and  he 
hesitated  curiously ;  "my  doctor  says  I  got  to  take  an 
ocean  trip."  He  suddenly  blazed  out:  "Damn  it, 
you  might  as  well  be  told !  I'm  running  away !" 

Bobby  found  himself  silent.  For  two  years  he  had 
planned  and  hoped  for  this  moment  of  victory.  Now 
that  the  exultant  moment  had  come  he  found  himself 
feeling  strangely  sorry  for  this  big  man,  in  spite 
of  his  unutterable  rascality. 

"I  ain't  coming  back,"  Stone  went  on  after  a  pause, 
"and  there's  something  I  want  to  ask  you  to  do  for 
me." 

"I  should  be  glad  to  do  it,  Mr.  Stone,  if  it  is  any- 
thing I  can  allow  myself  to  do." 

"Aw,  cut  it!"  growled  Stone.  "Look  here.  I  got 
a  list  of  some  poor  mutts  I  been  looking  out  for,  and 
I've  just  set  aside  a  wad  to  keep  it  going.  I  want  you 
to  look  after  'em  and  see  that  the  money  gets  spread 


338    THE  MAKING  OF.  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

around  right.     I  know  you're  square.    I  don't  know 
anybody  else  to  give  it  to." 

To  Bobby  he  handed  a  list  of  some  fifty  names  and 
addresses,  with  monthly  amounts  set  down  opposite 
them.  They  were  widows  and  orphans  and  helpless 
creatures  of  all  sorts  and  conditions,  blind  and  deaf 
and  crippled,  whom  Stone,  in  the  great  passion  that 
every  man  has  for  some  one  to  love  and  revere  him, 
and  in  the  secret  tenderness  inseparable  from  all  big 
natures,  had  made  his  pensioners. 

"There  ain't  a  soul  on  earth  knows  about  these  but 
me,  and  every  one  of  'em  is  wise  to  it  that  if  they  ever 
blat  a  word  about  it  the  pap's  cut  off.  I  don't  want  a 
thing,  not  even  a  hint,  printed  about  this — see?  I 
ain't  afraid  that  you'll  use  it  in  the  paper  after  me 
asking  you  not  to,  so  I  don't  ask  you  for  any 
promise." 

"I'll  do  it  with  pleasure,"  offered  Bobby. 

"Well,  I  guess  that's  about  all,"  said  Stone,  and 
turned  to  go. 

Bobby  came  from  behind  his  desk. 

"After  all,  Stone,"  he  said,  with  some  hesitation, 
"I'm  sorry  to  lose  an  enemy  so  worth  while.  I  wish 
you  good  luck  wherever  you  are  going,"  and  he  held 
out  his  hand. 

Stone  looked  at  the  proffered  hand  and  shook  his 
head. 


I'd  rather  smash  your  face 


A   PARTING    COMMISSION  339 

"I'd  rather  smash  your  face,"  he  growled,  and 
passed  out  of  the  door. 

It  was  the  last  that  Bobby  ever  saw  of  him,  and  all 
that  the  Bulletin  carried  about  his  flight  was  the 
"fact,"  not  at  all  too  prominently  displayed  for  the 
man's  importance  as  a  public  figure,  that  Stone's 
health  was  in  jeopardy  and  that  he  was  about  to  take 
an  ocean  voyage  upon  the  advice  of  his  physician; 
and  on  that  day  Stone's  picture  disappeared  from  the 
place  it  had  occupied  upon  the  front  page  of  the 
Bulletin. 

It  was  a  victory  complete  and  final,  but  it  was  not 
without  its  sting,  for  on  that  same  day  Bobby  faced 
an  empty  exchequer.  It  was  Johnson  who  brought 
him  the  sad  but  not  at  all  unexpected  tidings,  at  a 
moment  when  Chalmers  and  Agnes  happened  to  be  in 
the  office.  Seeing  them,  Johnson  hesitated  at  the 
door. 

"What  is  it,  Johnson?"  asked  Bobby. 

"Oh,  nothing  much,"  said  Mr.  Johnson  witH  a 
pained  expression.  "I'll  come  back  again." 

He  had  a  sheet  of  paper  with  him  and  Bobby  held 
out  his  hand  for  it.  Still  hesitating,  old  Johnson 
brought  it  forward  and  laid  it  down  on  Bobby's  desk. 

"You  know  you  told  me,  sir,  to  bring  this  to  you." 

Had  the  others  not  been  present  he  would  have 
added  the  reminder  that  he  had  been  instructed  to 


340    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT. 

bring  this  statement  a  week  in  advance  of  the  time 
when  Bobby  should  no  longer  be  able  to  meet  his  pay- 
roll. Bobby  looked  up  from  the  statement  without 
any  thought  of  reserve  before  these  three* 

"Well,  it's  come.    I'm  broke." 

"Not  so  much  a  calamity  in  this  instance  as  it  has 
been  in  others,"  said  Agnes  sagely.  "Fortunately, 
your  trustee  is  right  here,  and  your  trustee's  lawyer, 
who  has  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  still 
to  your  account." 

Bobby  listened  in  frowning  silence,  and  old  John- 
son, who  had  prepared  himself  before  he  came  up- 
stairs for  such  a  contingency,  quietly  laid  upon 
Bobby's  desk  one  of  the  familiar  gray  envelopes  and 
withdrew.  It  was  inscribed: 

To  My  Son  Robert,  Upon  the  Turning  Over  to  Him 
of  His  Sixth  and  Last  Experimental  Fund 

"If  a  man  fails  six  times  he'd  better  be  pensioned 
and  left  to  live  a  life  of  pleasant  ease ;  for  everybody 
has  a  right  to  be  happy,  and  not  all  can  gain  happi- 
ness through  their  own  efforts.  So,  if  you  fail  this 
last  time,  don't  worry,  my  boy,  but  take  measures  to 
cut  your  garment  according  to  the  income  from  a 
million  and  a  half  dollars,  invested  so  safely  that  it 
can  yield  you  but  two  per  cent.  If  the  fault  of  your 
ill  success  lies  with  anybody  it  lies  with  me,  and  I 


A   PARTING   COMMISSION  341 

blame  myself  bitterly  for  it  many  times  as  I  write 
this  letter. 

"Remember,  first,  last  and  always,  that  I  want  you 
to  be  happy." 


Bobby  passed  the  letter  to  Agnes  and  the  envelope 
to  Chalmers. 

"This  is  a  little  premature,"  he  said,  smiling  at 
both  of  them,  "for  I'm  not  applying  for  the  sixth 
portion." 

Agnes  looked  up  at  him  in  surprise. 

"Not  applying  for  it?" 

"No,"  he  declared,  "I  don't  want  it.  I  understand 
there  is  a  provision  that  I  can  not  use  two  of  these 
portions  in  the  same  business." 

Both  Chalmers  and  Agnes  nodded. 

"I  don't  want  money  for  any  other  business  than 
the  Bulletin,"  declared  Bobby,  "and  if  my  father  has 
it  fixed  so  that  he  won't  help  me  as  I  want  to  be  helped, 
I  don't  want  it  at  all." 

"There  is  another  provision  about  which  you  per- 
haps don't  know,"  Chalmers  informed  him;  "if  you 
refuse  this  money  it  reverts  to  the  main  fund." 

Bobby  studied  this  over  thoughtfully. 

"Let  it  revert,"  said  he.  "I'll  sink  or  swim  right 
here." 

The  next  day  he  went  to  his  bank  and  tried  to 


342    THE  MAKING  OF,  BOBBY]  BURNIX 

borrow  money.  They  liked  Bobby  very  much  indeed 
over  at  the  bank.  He  was  a  vigorous  young  man,  a 
young  man  of  affairs,  a  young  man  who  had  won  a 
great  public  victory,  a  young  man  whom  it  was  gen- 
erally admitted  had  done  the  city  an  incalculable 
amount  of  good ;  but  they  could  not  accept  Bobby  nor 
the  Bulletin  as  a  business  proposition.  Had  they 
not  seen  the  original  fund  dwindle  and  dwindle  for 
two  years  until  now  there  was  nothing  left?  Wouldn't 
another  fund  dwindle  likewise?  It  is  no  part  of  a 
bank's  desire  to  foreclose  upon  securities.  They  are 
quite  well  satisfied  with  just  the  plain  interest.  More- 
over, the  Bulletin  wasn't  such  heavy  security,  anyhow. 

Bobby  tried  another  bank  with  like  results,  and 
also  some  of  his  firm  business  friends  at  the  Traders' 
Club.  In  the  midst  of  his  dilemma  President  De  Graff 
of  the  First  National  came  to  him. 

"I  understand  you  have  been  trying  to  borrow  some 
money,  Burnit?" 

It  sounded  to  Bobby  as  if  De  Graff  had  come  to 
gloat  over  him,  since  he  had  been  instrumental  in 
dragging  De  Graff  and  the  First  National  through 
the  mire. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  have,"  he  nevertheless  answered 
steadily. 

"Why  didn't  you  come  to  us  ?"  demanded  De  Graff. 

"To  you?"  said  Bobby,  amazed.    "I  never  thought 


A   PARTING    COMMISSION,  343 

of  you  in  that  connection  at  all,  De  Graff,  after  all 
that  has  happened." 

De  Graff  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"That  was  like  pulling  a  tooth.  It  hurt  and  one 
dreaded  it,  but  it  was  so  much  better  when  it  was  out. 
Until  you  jumped  into  the  fight  Stone  had  me  under 
his  thumb.  The  minute  the  exposure  came  he  had  no 
further  hold  on  me.  It  is  the  only  questionable  thing 
I  ever  did  in  my  life,  and  I'm  glad  it  was  exposed.  I 
admire  you  for  it,  even  though  it  will  hurt  me  in  a 
business  way  for  a  long  time  to  come.  But  about 
this  money  now.  How  much  do  you  need  at  the  pres- 
ent time?" 

"I'd  like  an  account  of  about  twenty-five  thousand." 

"I  can  let  you  have  it  at  once,"  said  De  Graff,  "and 
as  much  more  as  you  need,  up  to  a  certain  reasonable 
point  that  I  think  will  be  amply  sufficient." 

"Is  this  Stone's  money?"  asked  Bobby  witH  sudden 
suspicion. 

De  Graff  smiled. 

"No,"  said  he,  "it  is  my  own.  I  have  faith  in  you, 
Burnit,  and  faith  in  the  Bulletin.  Suppose  you  step 
over  to  the  First  National  with  me  right  away." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

AUNT  CONSTANCE  ELLISTON  LOSES  ALL  HER  PATIENCB 
WITH  A  CERTAIN  PROSAIC  COURTSHIP 

THAT  night,  with  a  grave  new  responsibility 
upon  him  and  a  grave  new  elation,  sturdier 
and  stronger  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his 
life,  and  more  his  own  master,  Bobby  went  out  to  see 
Agnes. 

"Agnes,  when  my  father  made  you  my  trustee," 
he  said,  "he  laid  upon  you  the  obligation  that  you 
were  not  to  marry  me  until  I  had  proved  myself  either 
a  success  or  a  failure,  didn't  he  ?" 

"He  did,"  assented  Agnes  demurely. 

"But  you  are  no  longer  my  trustee.  The  last 
money  over  which  you  had  nominal  control  has  re- 
verted to  the  main  fund,  which  is  in  the  hands  of  Mr. 
Barrister ;  so  that  releases  you." 

Agnes  laughed  softly  and  shook  her  head. 

"The  obligation  wasn't  part  of  the  trusteeship," 
she  reminded  him. 

"But  if  I  choose  to  construe  it  that  way,"  he  per- 
sisted, "and  declare  the  obligation  null  and  void,  how 
344 


A   PROSAIC    COURTSHIP.  845 

soon  could  you  get  ready  to  be  married  to  the  political 
boss  of  this  town  and  one  of  its  leading  business  men  ? 
Agnes,"  he  went  on,  suddenly  quite  serious,  "I  can 
not  do  without  you  any  longer.  I  have  waited  long 
enough.  I  need  you  and  you  must  come  to  me." 

"I'll  come  if  you  insist,"  she  said  simply,  and  laid 
both  her  hands  in  his.  "But,  Bobby,  let's  think  about 
this  a  minute.  Let's  think  what  it  means.  I  have 
been  thinking  of  it  many,  many  days,  and  really  and 
truly  I  don't  like  to  give  up,  because  of  its  bearing 
upon  our  future  strength.  Yesterday  I  drove  down 
Grand  Street  and  looked  up  at  that  Trimmer  and 
Company  sign,  and  so  long  as  that  is  there,  Bobby, 
I  could  not  feel  right  about  our  deserting  the  colors, 
as  it  were ;  that  is,  unless  you  have  definitely  given  up 
the  fight." 

"Given  up!"  repeated  Bobby  quickly.  "Why,  I 
have  just  begun.  I've  been  to  school  all  this  time, 
Agnes,  and  to  a  hard  school,  but  now  I'm  sure  I  have 
learned  my  lesson.  I  have  won  a  fight  or  two ;  I  have 
had  the  taste  of  blood;  I'm  going  after  more;  I'm 
going  to  win." 

"I'm  sure  that  you  will,"  she  repeated.  "Think 
how  much  better  satisfied  we  will  be  after  you  have 
done  so." 

"Yes,  but  think,  too,  of  the  time  it  will  take,"  he 
protested.  "First  of  all  I  must  earn  money ;  that  is, 


346    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

I  must  make  the  Bulletin  pay.  I  can  do  that.  It  is 
on  the  edge  of  earning  its  way  right  now,  but  I  owe 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars.  It  is  going  to  take  a 
long,  long  time  for  me  to  win  this  battle,  and  in  it 
I  need  you." 

"I  am  always  right  here,  Bobby,"  she  reminded  him. 
"I  have  never  failed  you  when  you  needed  me,  have  I? 
But  maybe  it  won't  take  so  long.  You  say  you  are 
going  to  make  the  Bulletin  pay.  If  you  do  that 
counts  for  a  business  success,  enough  to  release  you 
on  that  side.  But  really,  Bobby,  how  difficult  a  task 
would  it  be  to  get  back  control  of  your  father's 
store?" 

"Hopeless,  just  now,"  said  he. 

"How  much  money  would  it  take?" 

"Well,  not  so  very  much  in  comparison  with  the 
business  itself,"  he  told  her.  "I  own  two  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  stock,  Trimmer  owns 
two  hundred  and  forty  thousand,  while  sixty  thou- 
sand more  are  scattered  among  his  relatives  and  de- 
pendents. That  stock  is  not  for  sale,  that  is  the 
trouble ;  but  if  I  could  buy  twenty-one  thousand  dol- 
lars of  it  I  could  do  what  I  liked  with  the  entire 
concern." 

"Then  Bobby,  let's  not  think"  o'f  anything  else  but 
how  to  get  that  stock.  Let's  insist  on  having  that  for 
our  wedding  present." 


A  PROSAIC  COURTSHIP:         347 

Bobby  regarded  her  gravely  for  a  long  time. 

"Agnes,  you're  a  brick!"  he  finally  concluded. 
"You're  right,  as  you  have  always  been.  We'll  wait. 
But  you  don't  know,  oh,  you  don't  know  how  hard 
that  is  for  me !" 

"It  is  not  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  for  me," 
she  gently  reminded  him. 

From  the  time  that  she  had  laid  her  hands  in  his 
he  had  held  them,  and  now  he  had  gathered  them  to 
him,  pressing  them  upon  his  breast.  Suddenly,  over- 
come by  his  great  longing  for  her,  he  clasped  her  in 
his  arms  and  held  her,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 
For  a  moment  she  yielded  to  that  embrace  and  closed 
her  eyes,  and  then  she  gently  drew  away  from  him. 

"We  mustn't  indulge  in  that  sort  of  thing  very 
much,"  she  reminded  him,  "or  we're  likely  to  lose  all 
our  good  resolutions." 

"Good  resolutions,"  declared  Bobby,  "are  a 
nuisance." 

She  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"Look  at  the  people  who  haven't  any,"  she  re- 
minded him. 

It  was  perhaps  half  an  hour  later  when  an  idea 
which  brought  with  it  a  smile  came  to  her. 

"We've  definitely  resolved  now  to  wait  until  you 
have  either  accomplished  what  you  set  out  to  do,  or 
completely  failed,  haven't  we?" 


348    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Yes,"  he  assented  soberly. 

"Then  I'm  going  to  open  one  of  the  letters  your 
father  left  for  us.  I  have  been  dying  with  curiosity 
to  know  what  is  in  it,"  and  hurrying  up  to  her  sec- 
retary she  brought  down  one  of  the  inevitable  gray 
envelopes,  addressed: 

To  My  Children  Upon  the  Occasion  of  Their  De- 
ciding to  Marry  Before  the  Limit  of  My 
Prohibition 

"What  I  can  not  for  the  life  of  me  understand  is 
why  the  devil  you  didn't  do  it  longi  ago !" 

Bobby  was  so  thoroughly  awake  to  the  underlying 
principle  of  Agnes'  contention  that  even  this  letter 
did  nothing  to  change  his  viewpoint. 

"For  it  isn't  him,  it  is  us,  or  rather  it  is  me,  who  is 
to  be  considered,"  he  declared.  "But  it  does  seem  to 
me,  Agnes,  as  if  for  once  we  had  got  the  better 
of  the  governor." 

They  were  still  laughing  over  the  unexpectedness 
of  the  letter  when  Aunt  Constance  came  in,  and  they 
showed  it  to  her. 

"Good!"  she  exclaimed,  dwelling  longer  upon  the 
inscription  than  upon  the  letter  itself.  "I  think 
you're  quite  sensible,  and  I'll  arrange  the  finest  wed- 
ding for  Agnes  that  has  ever  occurred  in  the  Elliston 


A   PROSAIC   COURTSHIP  349 

family.  You  must  give  me  at  least  a  couple  of 
months,  though.  When  is  it  to  come  off?  Soon, 
I  suppose?" 

Carefully  and  patiently  they  explained  the  stand 
they  had  taken.  At  first  she  thought  they  were 
joking,  and  it  took  considerable  reiteration  on  their 
part  for  her  to  understand  that  they  were  not. 

"I  declare  I  have  no  patience  with  you!"  she 
avowed.  "Of  all  the  humdrum,  prosaic  people  I  ever 
saw,  you  are  the  very  worst!  There  is  no  romance 
in  you.  You're  as  cool  about  it  as  if  marriage  were 
a  commercial  partnership.  Oh,  Dan !"  and  she  called 
her  husband  from  the  library.  "Now  what  do  you 
think  of  this?"  she  demanded,  and  explained  the 
ridiculous  attitude  of  the  young  people. 

"Great!"  decided  Uncle  Dan.  "Allow  me  to  con- 
gratulate you,"  and  he  shook  hands  heartily  with 
both  Agnes  and  Bobby,  whereat  Aunt  Constance  de- 
nounced him  as  being  a  sordid  soul  of  their  own 
stripe  and  went  to  bed  in  a  huff.  She  got  up  again, 
however,  when  she  heard  Agnes  retire  to  her  own 
room  for  the  night,  and  came  in  to  wrestle  with  that 
young  lady  in  spirit.  She  found  Agnes,  however, 
obdurate  in  her  content,  and  ended  by  becoming  an 
enthusiastic  supporter  of  the  idea.  "Although  I  did 
have  my  heart  so  set  on  a  fine  wedding,"  she  plaint- 
ively concluded.  "I  have  been  planning  it  for  ages." 


350    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Just  keep  on  planning,  auntie,"  replied  Agnes. 
"No  doubt  you  will  acquire  some  brilliant  new  ideas 
before  the  time  comes." 

So  this  utterly  placid  courtship  went  on  in  its  old 
tranquil  way,  with  Bobby  a  constant  two  and  three 
nights  a  week  visitor  to  the  Elliston  home,  and  with 
the  two  young  people  discussing  business  more  fre- 
quently than  anything  else;  for  Bobby  had  learned 
to  come  to  Agnes  for  counsel  in  everything.  Just 
now  his  chief  burden  of  conversation  was  the  letting 
of  the  new  waterworks  contract,  which,  with  public 
sentiment  back  of  him,  he  had  fought  off  until  after 
the  Stone  administration  had  ended.  Hamilton  Fer- 
ris, an  old  polo  antagonist  of  his,  represented  one  of 
the  competing  firms  as  its  president,  and  Bobby  had 
been  most  anxious  that  he  should  be  the  successful 
bidder,  as  was  Agnes ;  for  Bobby  had  brought  Ferris 
to  dinner  at  the  Ellistons  and  to  call  a  couple  of 
times  during  his  stay  in  the  city,  and  all  of  the  Ellis- 
tons  liked  him  tremendously.  Bobby  was  quite  crest- 
fallen when  the  opening  of  the  bids  proved  Ferris 
to  be  the  second  lowest  man. 

i  "I've  tried  hard  enough  for  it,"  declared  Ferris 
(luring  a  final  dinner  at  the  Ellistons  that  night. 
"There  isn't  much  doing  this  year,  and  I  figured 
closer  than  anybody  in  my  employ  would  dared  to 
have  done.  In  view  of  my  estimate  I  can  not  for  the 


A   PROSAIC    COURTSHIP  351 

life  of  me  see  how  your  local  company  overbid  us 
all  by  over  a  million  dollars." 

"It  is  curious,"  admitted  Bobby,  still  much  puz- 
zled. 

"It's  rather  unsportsmanlike  in  me  to  whine,"  re- 
sumed Ferris,  "but  I  am  bound  to  believe  that  there 
is  a  colored  gentleman  in  the  woodpile  somewhere." 

"That  would  be  no  novelty,"  returned  Bobby. 
"Ever  since  I  bought  the  Bulletin  I  have  been  gun- 
ning for  Ethiopians  amid  the  fuel  and  always  found 
them.  The  Middle  West  Construction  Company, 
however,  is  a  new  load  of  kindling  to  me.  I  never 
heard  of  it  until  it  was  announced  this  morning  as 
the  lowest  bidder." 

"Nobody  ever  heard  of  it,"  asserted  Ferris.  "It 
was  no  doubt  organized  for  the  sole  purpose  of  bid- 
ding on  this  job.  Probably  when  you  delve  into  the 
matter  you  will  discover  the  fine  Italian  hand  of  your 
political  boss." 

"Hardly,"  chuckled  Uncle  Dan,  indulging  in  his 
recent  propensity  to  brag  on  Bobby.  "Our  local 
boss  was  Sam  Stone,  and  Bobby  has  just  succeeded 
in  running  him  and  two  of  his  expert  wire  workers 
out  of  the  country." 

"If  anybody  here  is  the  political  boss  it  is 
Bobby,"  observed  Agnes,  laughing. 

"I'm  sorry  to  have  to  suspect  him,"  laughed  Fer- 


352    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

rls.  "Well,  there  is  no  use  crying  over  spilled  milk ; 
but  I  had  hoped  to  bring  Mrs.  Ferris  out  for  a  good 
long  visit." 

"Give  your  wife  my  regards,  Mr.  Ferris,  and  tell 
her  she  must  come  anyhow,"  insisted  Mrs.  Elliston. 
"Since  I  have  heard  that  you  married  the  daughter 
of  my  old  schoolmate,  I  have  been  wanting  the  Key- 
stone Construction  Company  to  have  a  big  contract 
here  more  than  you  have,  I  think." 

"Sounds  very  nice,  Constance,"  said  her  husband 
dryly,  "but  I  doubt  if  any  woman  ever  wanted  to 
see  the  daughter  of  her  old  schoolmate  as  badly  as 
any  man  ever  wanted  to  make  a  million  dollars. 
Bobby,  I'll  make  you  a  small  bet.  I'll  bet  your  new 
construction  company  is  composed  of  the  shattered 
fragments  of  the  old  Stone  crowd.  I'll  even  bet  that 
Silas  Trimmer  is  in  it." 

"If  he  is,"  suddenly  declared  Agnes,  "I'm  going 
to  go  into  the  detective  business,"  whereat  Uncle  Dan 
enjoyed  himself  hugely.  Her  vindictiveness  when- 
ever the  name  of  Silas  Trimmer  was  mentioned  had 
become  highly  amusing  to  him,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  he  admired  her  for  it. 

"Go  right  ahead,"  said  Bobby  approvingly.  "If 
you  find  anything  that  will  enable  me  to  give  that 
gentleman  a  financial  backset  I'll  see  that  you  get  a 
handsome  reward.  In  the  meantime  I'm  going  to  find 


A   PROSAIC    COURTSHIP  353 

out  something  about  the  Middle  West  Construction 
Company  myself." 

Accordingly  he  asked  his  managing  editor  about 
that  concern  the  first  thing  in  the  morning. 

Ben  Jolter  lit  his  old  pipe,  folded  his  bare  arms 
and  patted  them  alternately  in  speculative  enjoy- 
ment. 

"I  have  something  like  two  pages  of  information 
about  them,  if  we  could  use  it,"  he  announced.  "I 
have  been  getting  reports  from  the  entire  scouting 
brigade  ever  since  the  contract  was  let  yesterday, 
and  you  may  now  prepare  for  a  shock.  The  largest 
stock-holders  of  the  concern  are  Silas  Trimmer  and 
Frank  Sharpe,  and  the  minor  stock-holders,  almost  to 
a  man,  consist  of  those  who  had  their  little  crack  at 
the  public  crib  under  your  old,  time-tried  and  true 
friend,  Sam  Stone." 

"I  admit  that  I  am  properly  shocked,"  responded 
Bobby. 

"It  hinges  together  beautifully,"  Jolter  went  on. 
"The  whole  waterworks  project  was  a  Stone  scheme, 
and  Stone  people — even  though  Stone  himself  is 
wiped  out — secure  the  contract.  The  last  expiring 
act  of  the  Stone  administration  was  to  employ  Ed 
Scales  as  chief  engineer  until  the  completion  of  the 
waterworks,  which  may  occupy  eight  or  ten  years, 
and  the  contract  with  Scales  is  binding  on  the  city 


354)    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

unless  he  can  be  impeached  for  cause.  Scales  was 
city  engineer  under  the  previous  reform  spasm,  but 
Stone  probably  found  him  good  material  and  kept 
him  on.  The  waterworks  plans  were  prepared  under 
his  supervision  and  he  got  them  ready  for  bidding. 
Now  what's  the  answer?" 

"Easy,"  returned  Bobby.     "The  city  loses." 

"Right,"  agreed  Jolter;  "but  how?  I  don't  see 
that  we  can  do  anything.  Scales,  having  prepared 
the  plans,  is  the  logical  man  to  see  that  they  are  car- 
ried out,  and  he  is  perfectly  competent.  His  record 
is  clean,  so  that  he  owns  no  property,  nor  does  any  of 
his  family — although  that  may  be  because  he  never 
had  a  chance.  The  Middle  West  Construction  Com- 
pany, though  just  incorporated,  is  financially  sound, 
thoroughly  bonded,  and,  moreover,  has  put  into  the 
hands  of  the  city  ample  guarantee  for  its  twenty  per 
cent,  forfeit  as  required  by  the  terms  of  the  contract. 
There  isn't  a  thing  that  the  Bulletin  can  do  except  to 
boost  local  enterprise  with  a  bit  of  reservation,  then 
lay  low  and  wait  for  developments." 

"I  dislike  to  do  it,"  objected  Bobby.  "It  hurts  me 
to  think  of  mentioning  Stone  or  Trimmer  in  any 
complimentary  way  whatsoever." 

Jolter  laughed.  "You're  a  fine  and  consistent 
enemy,"  he  said. 

"I  guess  I  came  by  it  honestly,"  smiled  Bobby,  and 


A   PROSAIC    COURTSHIP  355 

from  a  drawer  in  his  (desk  took  one  of  the  gray  John 
Burnit  letters. 

"  'Always  forgive  your  enemies,' "  read  Jolter 
aloud ;  "  'that  is,  after  you  are  good  and  even  with 
them.' " 

"Here  goes  for  them,  then,"  said  Jolter,  passing 
back  the  letter  with  an  approving  chuckle.  "We'll 
let  them  go  right  ahead,  and  in  the  meantime  the 
Bulletin  will  do  a  lot  of  real  nifty  old  sleuthing." 

But  the  Bulletin's  sleuthing  brought  nothing 
wrong  to  light,  and  work  upon  the  big  waterworks 
contract  was  begun  with  a  rush. 

In  the  meantime  Agnes,  true  to  her  threat,  was 
doing  some  investigating  on  her  own  account.  She 
renewed  her  girlhood  acquaintance  with  Trimmer's 
daughter,  who  was  now  Mrs.  Clarence  Smythe,  and 
with  others  of  the  Trimmer  connection,  and  she  saw 
these  women  folk  frequently  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
gathering  up  any  scraps  of  information  that  might 
drop.  The  best  she  could  gather,  however,  was  that 
Clarence  Smythe  and  Silas  Trimmer  were  no  longer 
upon  very  friendly  terms;  that  Mrs.  Smythe  had 
quarreled  with  her  father  about  Clarence;  also  that 
Clarence's  Trimmer  and  Company  stock  was  in  Mrs. 
Smythe's  name.  These  scraps  of  information,  slight 
as  they  were,  she  religiously  brought  to  Bobby. 
When  the  new  waterworks  began  Agnes  saved  all  the 


356    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

newspaper  clippings  relating  to  that  tremendous  un- 
dertaking, and  she  frequently  drove  out  there  of 
evenings  after  the  workmen  had  all  gone  home ;  with 
just  what  purpose  she  could  not  say,  but  she  felt 
impelled,  as  she  half -sheepishly  confessed  to  her  Uncle 
Dan,  to  "keep  an  eye  on  the  job."  She  kept  up  her 
absurd  surveillance  in  spite  of  all  Uncle  Dan's  ridi- 
cule, and  one  evening  she  came  home  in  a  state  of 
quivering  excitement.  She  called  up  Bobby  at  once. 

"Bobby,"  she  wanted  to  know,  "has  the  city  de- 
cided to  cut  down  expenses  on  the  waterworks,  or 
have  the  plans  been  changed  for  any  reason?" 

"Not  that  the  public  knows  about,"  replied  Bobby. 
"Why?" 

"The  pumping  station  is  not  so  big  as  the  news- 
papers said  it  was  to  be.  It  is  over  thirty  feet 
shorter  and  over  twenty  feet  narrower." 

"How  do  you  know?"  demanded  Bobby. 

"I  took  Wilkins  out  there  with  me  to-night  and 
had  him  measure  it  for  me  with  a  yard-stick  while  the 
watchman  had  gone  for  his  supper,"  replied  Agnes 
triumphantly. 

Bobby  stopped  to  laugh. 

"Impossible,"  said  he.  "You  have  measured  it 
wrong  or  misunderstood  it  in  some  way  or  other." 

"You  go  out  and  measure  it  for  yourself,"  insisted 
Agnes. 


A   PROSAIC    COURTSHIP  357 

Partly  to  humor  her  and  partly  because  his  interest 
had  been  aroused,  Bobby  went  out  the  next  night  and 
measured  the  pumping  station,  the  excavation  for 
which  was  already  completed,  and  to  his  astonishment 
found  that  Agnes'  measurements  were  correct.  He 
immediately  wrote  to  Ferris  about  it,  told  him  the 
present  dimensions  and  asked  him  upon  what  basis  he 
had  figured.  In  place  of  replying  Ferris  came  on. 
Arriving  in  the  city  on  Saturday,  on  Sunday  he  and 
Bobby  went  out  to  the  site,  and  Ferris  examined  the 
new  waterworks  with  a  deliberation  which  well-nigh 
got  him  into  serious  trouble  with  the  watchman. 

"Well,  young  man,  your  fair  city  is  stung,"  de- 
clared Ferris.  "The  trenches  are  not  so  deep  as  speci- 
fied by  two  feet,  and  from  their  width  I  can  tell  that 
the  foundation  walls  are  to  be  at  least  six  inches 
thinner.  I  bid  on  the  best  grade  of  Portland  cement 
for  that  job.  It  was  spelled  with  a  B,  however,  in  my 
copy  of  the  specification,  and  I  asked  your  man 
Scales  about  it.  *Oh,'  said  he,  'that's  a  misprint  in  the 
typewriting,'  and  he  changed  the  B  to  P  with  a  lead 
pencil.  Under  that  shed  are  about  a  thousand  barrels 
of  Portland  cement.  I  never  heard  of  that  brand,  but 
I  can  tell  cement  when  I  see  it,  and  this  stuff  will 
have  no  more  adhesive  power  than  plain  mud.  Bed- 
ford stone  was  specified.  They  have  several  car-loads 
of  stone  dumped  down  here  which  is  not  Bedford 


358    THE  MAKING  OE  BOBBY  BURNIT 

stone  at  all.  I  could  tell  a  piece  of  Bedford  in  the 
dark.  This  is  an  inferior  rock  which  will  discolor  in 
six  months  and  will  disintegrate  in  five  years." 

Bobby  thought  the  thing  over  quietly  for  some 
minutes. 

"About  the  dimensions  of  the  building,  Ferris,  you 
might  possibly  be  mistaken,  might  you  not?"  asked 
Bobby. 

"Impossible,"  returned  Ferris.  "I  have  not  figured 
on  many  jobs  for  years,  but  our  chief  estimator  had 
been  sent  down  to  Cuba  when  this  thing  came  up  and 
I  did  the  work  myself,  so  I  have  a  very  vivid  memory 
of  it  and  can  not  possibly  have  it  confused  with  any 
other  bid.  Moreover,  we  have  all  those  things  on 
record  in  our  office  and  I  looked  it  up  before  I  came 
away.  The  dimensions  of  the  power  house  and  pump- 
ing station  were  to  be  one  hundred  and  ninety  by 
one  hundred  and  sixty  feet.  The  present  dimensions 
are  one  hundred  and  fifty-eight  by  one  hundred  and 
thirty-three." 

Bobby  was  thoughtfully  silent  for  a  while. 

"Do  you  remember  who  else  bid  on  the  contract?'' 
he  inquired  presently. 

"Every  one  of  them,"  smiled  Ferris.  *'I  can  give 
you  their  addresses  and  the  names  of  the  people  to 
wire  to  if  that  is  what  you  want.  We  meet  them  on 
every  big  job." 


A   PROSAIC   COURTSHIP,  359 

"Do  you  mind  wiring  yourself?"  asked  Bobby. 
"They  would  be  more  apt  to  give  you  confidential 
information." 

"With  pleasure,"  agreed  Ferris,  and  wrote  the 
telegrams. 

On  the  following  morning  Bobby  received  answers 
at  his  office  to  all  but  one  of  his  telegrams,  and  the 
information  was  unanimous  that  the  original  plans 
had  called  for  a  building  one  hundred  and  ninety  by 
one  hundred  and  sixty  feet. 

"Now  I  begin  to  understand,"  said  Ferris.  "This 
was  the  first  set  of  important  plans  I  ever  saw  in 
which  the  dimensions  were  not  marked,  but  they  were 
most  accurately  drawn  to  scale,  one-fourth  inch  to  the 
foot.  They  are  probably  using  the  same  drawings 
with  an  altered  scale,  although  it  would  be  an  absurdly 
clumsy  trick.  If  that  is  the  case  it  is  easy  to  see  how 
the  Middle  West  Construction  Company  could  under- 
bid us  by  more  than  a  million  dollars  and  still  make 
more  money  than  we  figured  on." 

Bobby  reached  for  the  telephone. 

"Get  me  the  mayor's  office,"  he  calle'd  to  the  girl 
at  his  private  telephone  exchange.  "Will  you  'stick 
around'  to  see  the  fuss  ?"  he  inquired  with  grim  pleas- 
ure, as  he  hung  up  the  receiver. 

Ferris  grinned  as  he  noted  the  light  of  battle  dawn- 
ing in  Bobby's  eyes. 


360    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"I  don't  know,"  he  replied.  "It  depends  on  the 
size  and  duration  of  the  fuss." 

"If  you  don't  stay  I'll  have  you  subpoenaed.  I 
may  have  to,  anyhow.  As  for  the  size  of  the  fuss, 
I  can  promise  you  a  bully  one  if  what  you  surmise 
is  correct." 

His  telephone  bell  rang  and  Bobby  turned  to  it 
quickly. 

"Hello,  Chalmers !"  he  began,  then  laughed.  "Beg 
pardon,  Agnes ;  I  thought  it  was  the  mayor's  office ;" 
he  apologized,  then  listened  intently.  There  were  a 
few  eager  queries,  and  when  Bobby  hung  up  the  tele- 
phone receiver  it  was  with  great  satisfaction.  "I 
haven't  seen  as  much  fun  in  sight  since  I  began  my 
fight  on  Stone,"  he  declared.  "Miss  Elliston,  who 
has  developed  a  marvelous  new  capacity  for  finding 
out  other  men's  business  secrets  through  their  women 
folk,  has  just  telephoned  me  the  results  of  her  last 
night's  detective  work.  It  seems  that  Silas  Trimmer, 
one  of  the  heavy  backers  of  the  Middle  West  Con- 
struction Company,  has  just  negotiated  a  loan  upon 
his  stock  in  the  mercantile  establishment  of  Trimmer 
and  Company,  my  share  of  which  was  known  as  the 
John  Burnit  Store  until  Trimmer  beat  me  out  of 
control.  I  understand  that  Trimmer  has  mortgaged 
everything  to  the  hilt  to  go  into  this  waterworks  deal." 

The  bell  rang  again.    This  time  it  was  Chalmers. 


A   PROSAIC   COURTSHIP  361 

"Say,  Chalmers,"  said  Bobby,  "I  want  you  to  get 
me  some  sort  of  a  legal  document  that  will  allow  me 
to  take  possession  of  and  examine  all  the  books, 
papers  and  drawings  of  the.  city  engineer's  depart- 
ment, including  the  waterworks  engineer's  office. 
.  .  .  Yes,  you  can,  Chalmers,"  he  insisted,  against 
an  obvious  protest.  "There  is  some  legal  machinery 
you  can  put  in  motion  to  get  it,  and  I  want  it  right 
away.  Moreover,  I  want  you  to  secure  me  somebody 
to  serve  the  writ  and  to  keep  it  quiet." 

Then  he  explained  briefly  what  had  been  partly 
discovered  and  partly  surmised.  Next  Bobby  sent 
for  Jolter  and  laid  the  facts  before  him,  to  the  great 
joy  of  that  aggressive  gentleman.  Then  he  called 
up  Biff  Bates,  and  made  an  appointment  with  him  to 
meet  him  at  Jimmy  Platt's  office  in  half  an  hour.  He 
would  have  telephoned  Platt,  but  the  engineer  had 
no  telephone. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

BIFF  RENEWS  A   PLEASANT  ACQUAINTANCE  AND  BOBBY 
INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY 

<*W-S  MR.  PLATT  in?" 

Biff   stood  hesitantly   in  the   door  when  he 
M     found  the   place   occupied  only   by   a   brown- 
haired  girl,  who  was  engaged  in  the  quiet,  unpro- 
fessional  occupation    of   embroidering   a    shirtwaist 
pattern. 

The  girl  looked  up  with  a  smile  at  the  young 
man's  awkwardness,  and  felt  impelled  to  put  him  at 
his  ease. 

"He's  not  in  just  now,  but  I  expect  him  within 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes  at  the  outside.  Won't  you  sit 
down,  Mr.  Bates?" 

He  looked  at  her  much  mystified  at  this  calling  of 
his  name,  but  he  mumbled  his  thanks  for  the  chair 
which  she  put  forward  for  him,  and,  sitting  with  his 
hat  upon  his  knees,  contemplated  her  furtively. 

"I  guess  you  don't  remember  me,"  she  said  in  frank 
enjoyment  of  his  mystification,  "but  I  remember  you 
perfectly.    I  used  to  see  you  quite  often  out  at  West- 
362 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY     363 

marsh  when  Mr.  Burnit  was  trying  to  redeem  that 
persistent  swamp.  I  am  Mr.  Platt's  sister." 

"No!"  exclaimed  Biff  in  amazement.  "You  can't 
be  the  kid  that  used  to  ride  on  the  excavating  cars, 
and  go  home  with  yellow  clay  on  your  dresses  every 
day." 

"I'm  the  kid,"  said  she  with  a  musical  laugh ;  "and 
I'm  afraid  I  haven't  quite  outgrown  my  hoydenish 
tendencies  even  yet." 

Biff  had  no  comment  to  make.  He  was  lost  in 
wonder  over  that  eternal  mystery — the  transforma- 
tion which  occurs  when  a  girl  passes  from  fourteen  to 
eighteen. 

"Don't  you  remember?"  she  gaily  went  on.  "You 
gave  me  a  boxing  lesson  out  there  one  afternoon  and 
promised  to  give  me  more  of  them,  but  you  never 
did." 

Biff  cleared  a  sudden  huskiness  from  his  throat. 

"I'd  be  tickled  black  in  the  face  to  make  good  any 
day,"  he  urged  earnestly,  and  then  hastily  corrected 
the  offer  to :  "That  is,  I  mean  I'll  be  very  glad  to — • 
to  finish  the  job." 

Immediately  he  turned  violently  red. 

"I  don't  seem  to  care  as  much  for  the  accomplish- 
ment as  I  did  then,"  observed  the  girl  with  a  smile, 
"but  I  do  wish  I  could  learn  to  swing  my  nice  Indian 
clubs  without  cracking  the  back  of  my  head." 


364    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"I  got  a  medal  for  club  swinging,"  said  Biff  diffi- 
dently. "I'll  teach  you  any  time  you  like.  It's  easy. 
Come  right  over  to  the  gym  on  Tuesday  and  Friday 
forenoons.  Those  are  ladies'  mornings,  and  I've  got 
nothing  but  real  classy  people  at  that." 

The  entrance  of  Mr.  Platt  interrupted  Biff  just 
as  he  was  beginning  to  feel  at  ease,  and  threw  that 
young  gentleman,  who  always  appropriated  and  ab- 
sorbed other  people's  troubles,  into  much  concern ; 
for  Mr.  Platt  was  hollow-eyed  and  sunken-cheeked 
from  worry.  His  coat  was  very  shiny,  and  his  hat 
was  shabby.  The  dusty  and  neglected  drawing  on 
his  crude  drawing-table  told  the  story  all  too  well. 
The  engineering  business,  so  far  as  Mr.  Platt  was 
concerned,  seemed  to  be  a  total  failure.  Neverthe- 
less, he  greeted  Mr.  Bates  warmly,  and  inquired  after 
Mr.  Burnit. 

"He's  always  fine,"  said  Biff.  "He  had  me  come 
up  here  to  meet  him." 

"I  should  scarcely  think  he  would  care  to  come 
here  after  the  unfortunate  outcome  of  the  work  I  did 
for  him,"  said  Mr.  Platt. 

"You  mean  on  old  Applerod's  Subtraction?" 

"You  couldn't  hardly  call  it  the  Applerod  Addition, 
could  you?"  responded  Jimmy  with  a  smile.  "That 
was  a  most  unlucky  transaction  for  me  as  well  as 
for  Mr.  Burnit." 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY     365 

Biff  looked  about  the  room  comprehendingly. 

"I  guess  it  put  you  on  the  hummer,  all  right," 
said  he.  "It  don't  look  as  if  you  done  anything 
since." 

"But  very  little,"  confessed  Mr.  Platt.  "My  fail- 
ure on  that  job  hurt  my  reputation  almost  fatally." 

Biff  gravely  sought  within  himself  for  words  of 
consolation,  one  of  his  fleeting  ideas  being  to  engage 
Mr.  Platt  on  the  spot  to  survey  the  site  of  Bates' 
Athletic  Hall,  although  there  was  not  the  slightest 
possible  need  for  such  a  survey.  In  the  midst  of  his 
sympathetic  gloom  came  in  Mr.  Ferris  and  Bobby. 

" Jimmy,  how  would  you  like  to  be  chief  construc- 
tion engineer  of  the  new  waterworks?"  asked  Bobby, 
with  scant  waste  of  time,  after  he  had  introduced 
Ferris. 

Mr.  Platt  gasped  and  paled. 

"I  think  I  could  be  urged,  from  a  sense  of  public 
(duty,  to  give  up  my  highly  lucrative  private  prac- 
tice," he  said  with  a  pitiful  attempt  at  levity,  though 
his  voice  was  husky,  and  his  tightly  clenched  hand, 
where  the  white  knuckles  rested  upon  his  drawing- 
table,  trembled. 

"Don't  build  up  too  much  hope  on  it,  Jimmy; 
but  if  what  we  surmise  is  correct  you  will  have  a 
chance  at  it,"  and  he  briefly  explained.  "We're  going 
right  out  there,"  concluded  Bobby,  "and  I  want  you 


366    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

to  go  along  to  help  Investigate.  We  have  to  find  some 
incriminating  evidence,  and  you'd  be  more  likely  to 
know  how  and  where  to  look  for  it  than  any  of  us." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  Jimmy  Platt  took  his  hat 
with  alacrity.  Before  he  went  out,  with  new  hope 
in  his  heart,  he  turned  and  shook  hands  ecstatically 
with  his  sister.  Still  holding  Jimmy's  hand  she 
turned  to  Bobby  impulsively: 

"I  do  hope,  Mr.  Burnit,  that  this  turns  out  right 
for  Jimmy." 

Bobby  turned  to  her  abruptly  and  with  a  trace  of  a 
frown.  It  was  a  rather  poorly  trained  office  em- 
ployee, he  thought,  who  would  intrude  herself  into 
conversation  that  it  was  her  duty  to  forget,  but  Biff 
Bates  caught  that  look  and  stepped  into  the  breach. 

"This  is  Nellie,  Bobby— that  is,  it  used  to  be  Nel- 
lie," he  stated  with  a  quick  correction,  and  blushed  vio- 
lently. 

"It  is  Nellie  still,"  laughed  that  young  lady  to 
Bobby,  and  the  puzzled  look  upon  his  face  was  swiftly 
driven  away  by  a  smile,  as  he  suddenly  recognized  in 
her  traces  of  the  long-legged  girl  who  had  been  always 
present  at  the  Applerod  Addition,  who  had  ridden  in 
his  automobile,  and  had  confided  to  him  most  volubly, 
upon  innumerable  occasions,  that  her  brother  Jimmy 
was  about  the  smartest  man  who  ever  sighted  through 
a  transit. 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY     367 

In  the  hastily  constructed  frame  office  out  at  the 
waterworks  site,  Ed  Scales,  pale  and  emaciated  and 
with  black  rings  under  his  eyes,  looked  up  nervously 
as  Bobby's  little  army,  reenforced  from  four  to  six  by 
the  addition  of  a  "plain  clothes  man"  and  Dillingham, 
the  Bulletin's  star  reporter,  invaded  the  place.  Before 
a  word  was  spoken,  Feeney,  the  plain  clothes  man, 
presented  Scales  with  a  writ,  which  the  latter  at- 
tempted to  read  with  unseeing  eyes,  his  fingers  trem- 
bling. 

"What  does  this  mean?" 

"That  I  have  come  to  take  possession,"  said  Bobby, 
"with  power  to  make  an  examination  of  every  scrap  of 
paper  in  the  place.  Frankly,  Scales,  we  expect  to  find 
something  crooked  about  the  waterworks  contract.  If 
we  do  you  know  the  result.  If  we  do  not,  the  inter- 
ruption will  be  only  temporary,  and  you  will  have 
very  pretty  grounds  for  action;  for  I  am  taking  a 
long  shot,  and  if  I  don't  find  what  I  am  after  I  have 
put  myself  and  the  mayor  into  a  bad  scrape." 

Scales  thrice  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  and  thrice 
there  came  no  sound  from  his  lips.  Then  he  laid  a 
bunch  of  keys  upon  his  desk,  shoving  them  toward 
Feeney,  and  rose.  He  half -staggered  into  the  large 
coat  room  behind  him.  He  had  scarcely  more  than 
disappeared  when  there  was  the  startling  roar  of  a 
shot,  and  the  body  of  Scales,  with  a  round  hole  in  the 


368    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

temple,  toppled,  face  downward,  out  of  the  door.  It 
was  Scales'  tragic  confession  of  guilt.  They  sprang 
instantly  to  him,  but  nothing  could  be  done  for  him. 
He  was  dead  when  they  reached  him. 

"Poor  devil,"  said  Ferris  brokenly.  "It  is  prob- 
ably the  first  crooked  thing  he  ever  did  in  his  life, 
and  he  hadn't  nerve  enough  to  go  through  with  it. 
I  feel  like  a  murderer  for  my  share  in  the  matter." 

Bobby,  too,  had  turned  sick;  his  senses  swam  and 
he  felt  numb  and  cold.  He  was  aroused  by  a  calm, 
dispassionate  voice  at  the  telephone.  It  was  Dilling- 
ham,  sending  to  the  Bulletin  a.  carefully  lurid  account 
of  the  tragedy,  and  of  the  probable  causes  leading 
up  to  it. 

"We'll  have  an  extra  on  the  street  in  five  minutes," 
he  told  Bobby  with  satisfaction  as  he  rose.  "That 
means  that  the  Chronicle  men  will  come  out  in  a 
swarm,  but  it  will  take  them  a  half -hour  to  get  here. 
We  have  that  much  time,  then,  to  dig  up  the  evidence 
we  are  after,  and  if  we  hustle  we  can  have  a  second 
extra  out  before  the  Chronicle  can  get  a  line.  It's 
the  biggest  beat  in  years.  Come  on,  boys,  let's  get 
busy,"  and  he  took  up  the  keys  that  Scales  had  left 
on  the  desk. 

Dillingham  had  no  sooner  left  the  telephone  than 
Feeney  took  up  the  receiver  and  called  for  a  num- 
ber. The  reporter  turned  upon  him  like  a  flash, 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY     369 

recognizing  that  call  as  the  number  of  the  coroner's 
office.  Dillingham  suddenly  caught  himself  before 
he  had  spoken,  and  looked  hastily  about  the  room. 
In  the  corner  near  the  floor  was  a  little  box  with  the 
familiar  bells  upon  it,  and  binding  screws  that  held 
the  wires.  Quickly  Dillingham  slipped  over  to  that 
corner  just  as  Feeney  was  saying: 

"Hello!  Coroner's  office,  this  is  Feeney.  Is  that 
you,  Jack?  ,  .  .  Well " 

At  that  instant  Dillingham  loosened  a  binding 
screw  and  slipped  off  the  loop  of  the  wire. 

"Hello,  coroner !"  repeated  Feeney.  "I  say,  Jack ! 
Hello!  Hello!  Hello,  there!  Hello!  Hello!"  Then 
Feeney  pounded  the  mouthpiece,  jerked  the  receiver 
hook  up  and  down,  yelled  at  exchange,  and  worked 
himself  into  a  vast  fever. 

"What's  the  matter  with  this  thing,  anyhow,  Dill?" 
he  finally  demanded. 

"Exchange  probably  went  to  sleep  on  you,"  said 
Dillingham. 

Easily  he  was  now  opening  one  by  one  the  im- 
mense flat  drawers  of  a  drawing-case,  and  with  much 
interest  delving  into  the  huge  drawings  that  it  con- 
tained. 

"Come  here,  Mr.  Platt,"  Dillingham  went  on. 
"You  cast  your  eagle  eye  over  these  drawings  while 
I  do  a  little  job  of  interviewing,"  and  he  walked  over 


370    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

to  the  employees  of  the  office,  who,  since  they  had 
been  roughly  warned  by  Feeney  not  to  go  near  "that 
body,"  had  huddled,  scared  and  limp,  in  the  far  corner 
of  the  room. 

Perspiring  and  angry,  Feeney  tried  for  five  solid 
minutes  to  obtain  some  response  from  the  dead  tele- 
phone, then  he  gave  it  up. 

"I've  got  to  go  out  and  hunt  up  another  'phone," 
he  declared.  "Biff,  I'll  appoint  you  my  deputy. 
Don't  let  anybody  touch  the  corpse  till  the  coroner 
comes." 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  said  Bobby  hastily,  very  glad 
to  leave  the  room,  and  both  he  and  Mr.  Ferris  ac- 
companied Feeney.  No  sooner  was  Feeney  out  of  the 
place  than  Dillingham  reconnected  the  telephone  and 
went  back  to  his  investigations.  He  was  thoroughly 
satisfied,  after  a  few  questions,  that  the  present  em- 
ployees knew  nothing  whatever,  and  Platt  reported 
to  him  that  every  general  drawing  he  could  find  was 
marked  three-tenths  inch  to  the  foot,  none  being 
marked  one-fourth. 

"That  doesn't  matter  so  much,"  mused  Dillingham. 
"It  will  be  easy  enough  to  prove  that  these  are  the 
same  drawings  that  were  provided  the  contestants, 
and  six  firms  will  swear  that  they  were  marked  one- 
fourth  of  an  inch  to  the  foot.  What  we  have  to  do 
is  to  prove  that  the  drawings  the  Middle  West  Com- 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A 'TRAGEDY  371 

pany  used  as  the  basis  of  their  bid  were  marked  one- 
fourth  inch  to  the  foot." 

The  telephone  bell  rang  violently  while  Dillingham 
was  puzzling  over  this  matter,  and  one  of  the  em- 
ployees started  to  answer  it. 

"No,  you  don't !"  shouted  Dillingham.  '"You  fel- 
lows are  dispossessed." 

He  took  down  the  receiver. 

"Waterworks  engineer's  office?"  came  a  brisk  voice 
through  the  telephone. 

"Yes,"  said  Dillingham. 

"This  is  the  Chronicle.  The  Bulletin  has  an  ex- 
tra  " 

Dillingham  waited  to  hear  no  more.  He  hung  up 
the  receiver  with  a  grin,  and  it  was  music  in  his  ears 
to  hear  those  bells  impatiently  jangling  for  the  next 
ten  minutes.  It  seemed  to  quicken  his  intelligence,  for 
presently  he  slapped  his  hand  upon  his  leg  and 
jumped  toward  the  group  of  employees  in  the  corner. 

"Say!"  he  demanded.  "Who  figured  on  this  job 
for  the  Middle  West  Company?" 

"Dan  Rubble,  I  suppose,"  answered  a  lanky  drafts- 
man, who,  still  wearing  his  apron,  had  slipped  his 
coat  on  over  his  oversleeves  and  retained  his  eye- 
shade  under  his  straw  hat.  "At  least,  he  seemed  to 
know  all  about  the  plans.  He's  the  boss  contractor. 
There  he  is  now." 


372    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

Looking  out  of  the  window  Dillingham  saw  a 
brawny,  red-haired  giant  running  from  the  tool- 
house,  carrying  a  cylindrical  tin  case  about  five  feet 
long.  He  pulled  off  the  cap  of  this  as  he  came  and 
began  to  drag  from  the  inside  of  the  case  a  thick 
roll  of  blue-prints.  He  was  hurrying  toward  a  big 
asphalt  caldron  underneath  which  blazed  a  hot  wood 
fire. 

"Come  on,  Biff,"  yelled  Dillingham,  and  hurried 
out  of  the  door,  closely  followed  by  Bates. 

They  both  ran  with  all  their  might  toward  the 
caldron,  but  before  they  could  reach  the  spot  Rubble 
had  shoved  the  entire  roll  into  the  fire.  Biff  wasted 
no  precious  moments,  but,  glaring  Mr.  Rubble  in  the 
eye  as  he  ran,  doubled  his  fist  with  the  evident  inten- 
tion of  damaging  that  large  gentleman's  countenance 
with  it.  He  suddenly  ducked  his  round  head  as  he 
approached,  however,  and  plunged  it  into  the  middle 
of  Mr.  Rubble's  appetite;  whereupon  Mr.  Rubble 
grunted  heavily,  and  sat  down  quite  uncomfortably 
near  to  the  caldron.  Biff,  though  it  scorched  his 
hands,  dragged  the  blazing  roll  of  blue-prints  from 
the  flames  and,  seizing  a  near-by  pail  of  water,  started 
for  the  drawings,  just  as  big  Dan  regained  his  feet 
and  made  a  rush  for  him. 

Dillingham,  slight  and  no  fighter  but  full  of  sand, 
jumped  crosswise  into  that  melee,  and  with  a  flying 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY     373 

leap  literally  hung  himself  about  Rubble's  neck.  Big 
Dan,  roaring  like  a  bull  at  this  unexpected  and  most 
unprofessional  mode  of  warfare,  placed  his  two  hands 
upon  Dillingham's  hips  and  tried  to  force  him  away ; 
failing  in  this,  he  ran  straight  forward  with  all  this 
living  clog  hanging  to  him,  and  planted  a  terrific  kick 
upon  Biff's  ribs,  just  as  Biff  had  dashed  the  pail  of 
water  from  end  to  end  of  the  blazing  roll  of  drawings. 
He  poised  for  another  kick,  but  Biff  had  dropped  the 
pail  by  this  time,  and  as  the  foot  swung  forward  he 
grabbed  it.  Rubble,  losing  his  balance,  pitched  for- 
ward, landing  squarely  upon  the  top  of  the  unhappy 
Dillingham,  who  signified  his  retirement  from  the 
game  with  an  astonishingly  large  "Woof!"  to  come 
from  so  small  a  body ;  moreover,  he  released  his  arms ; 
but  Rubble,  freed  from  the  weight  on  his  chest,  found 
another  one  on  his  back.  Biff  felt  quite  competent 
to  manage  him,  but  by  this  time  half  a  dozen  men 
came  running  from  different  directions,  and  as  there 
were  a  hundred  or  more  of  them  on  the  job,  all  be- 
holden for  their  daily  bread  and  butter  to  Mr.  Rub- 
ble, things  looked  bad  for  Biff  and  Dillingham. 

"Back  up  there,  you  mutts,  or  I'll  make  peek-a- 
boo  patterns  out  of  the  lot  of  you!"  howled  a  pene- 
trating voice,  and  Mr.  Feeney,  heading  the  relief 
party,  which  consisted  only  of  Bobby  and  Mr.  Ferris, 
whipped  from  each  hip  pocket  a  huge  blue-steel  re- 


374    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

volver,  at  the  same  time  brushing  back  his  coat  to 
display  his  badge. 

Those  men  might  have  fought  Mr.  Feeney's  guns, 
but  they  had  no  mind  to  fight  that  badge,  and  they 
held  back  while  Bobby  and  Mr.  Ferris  helped  to  calm 
Mr.  Rubble  by  the  simple  expedient  of  sitting  on 
him. 

Three  days  later  Bobby  induced  Messrs.  Sharpe, 
Trimmer  and  all  of  their  associates,  without  any  dif- 
ficulty whatever,  to  meet  with  him  in  the  office  of  the 
mayor. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  Middle  West  Construction  Com- 
pany," said  Bobby;  "I  am  sorry  to  say  that  you  are 
not  telling  the  truth  when  you  claim  that  you  figured 
in  good  faith  on  this  absurd  and  almost  unknown 
three-tenths-inch  scale,  when  all  the  others  figured 
on  the  same  drawings  at  one-fourth  inch.  The  rescue 
of  these  prints,  covered  with  Rubble's  marginal  fig- 
ures, does  not  leave  you  a  leg  to  stand  on,"  and  Bobby 
tapped  his  knuckles  upon  the  charred-edged  blue- 
prints that  lay  unrolled  on  the  desk  before  him. 
Fortunately  the  three  inside  prints  were  left  fairly 
intact,  and  these  were  plainly  marked  one-fourth  inch 
to  the  foot.  "Moreover,  rolled  up  inside  the  blue- 
prints was  even  better  evidence,"  went  on  Bobby; 
"evidence  that  Mr.  Trimmer  has  perhaps  forgotten. 
Nothing  has  been  said  about  it  until  now,  and  noth- 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY     375 

ing  has  been  published  since  we  saved  them  from  the 
fire." 

From  the  drawer  of  his  desk  he  drew  several  sheets 
of  white  paper.  They  were  letter-heads  of  Trimmer 
and  Company  and  were  covered  with  Rubble's  figures. 

"Here's  a  note  from  Mr.  Trimmer  to  Mr.  Rubble, 
requesting  him  to  prepare  a  statement  showing  the 
difference  in  cost  'between  three-tenths  and  one- 
fourth.'  He  does  not  say  three-tenths  or  one-fourth 
what,  but  that  is  quite  enough,  taken  in  conjunction 
with  these  summaries  on  another  sheet  of  paper. 
They  are  set  down  in  two  columns,  one  headed  three- 
tenths  and  the  other  one-fourth.  I  have  had  Mr. 
Platt  go  over  these  figures,  and  he  finds  that  the  first 
number  in  one  column  exactly  corresponds  to  the 
number  of  yards  of  excavating  in  this  job  when 
figured  on  the  scale  of  three-tenths  inch  to  the  foot. 
The  first  number  in  the  next  column  exactly  corre- 
sponds to  the  excavating  when  figured  at  the  one- 
fourth-inch  scale.  Every  item  will  compare  in  the 
same  manner:  concrete,  masonry,  face-brick,  and  all. 
Now,  if  you  chaps  want  to  take  this  clumsy  and  al- 
most laughable  attempt  at  a  steal  into  the  courts  I'm 
perfectly  willing;  but  I  should  advise  you  not  to  do 
so." 

Mr.  Sharpe  cleared  his  throat.  He,  the  first  one 
to  declare  that  the  Middle  West  would  "go  into  court 


376    THE  MAKING  OF.  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

and  stand  upon  its  rights,"  was  now  the  first  one  to 
recant. 

"I  don't  suppose  it's  worth  while  to  contest  the 
matter,"  he  admitted.  "We  have  no  show  with  your 
administration,  I  see.  We  lose  the  contract  and  will 
step  down  and  out  quite  peaceably;  although  there 
ought  to  be  some  arrangement  by  which  we  might 
get  credit  for  the  amount  of  work  already  done." 

"No,"  declared  Chalmers,  with  quite  a  reproving 
smile,  "you  may  just  keep  on  using  the  available 
part  of  it;  for  the  point  is  that  you  don't  lose  the 
contract!  You  keep  the  contract,  and  you  will  build 
the  power-house  upon  the  original  scale  of  one-fourth 
inch  to  the  foot.  Also  you  will  carry  out  the  rest  of 
the  work  on  the  same  basis  as  figured  by  other  con- 
tractors. I  want  to  remind  you  that  you  are  well 
bonded,  well  financed,  and  that  the  city  holds  a  guar- 
antee of  twenty  per  cent,  of  the  contract  price  as  a 
forfeit  for  the  due  and  proper  completion  of  this  job." 

"Why,  it  means  bankruptcy!"  shrieked  Silas 
Trimmer,  the  deeply-graven  circle  about  his  mouth 
now  being  but  the  pallid  and  piteous  caricature  of 
his  old-time  sinister  smile. 

"That  is  precisely  what  I  intend,"  retorted  Bobby 
with  a  snap  of  his  jaws.  "I  have  long,  long  scores 
to  settle  with  both  of  you  gentlemen." 

"But  you  haven't  against  the  other  members  of 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY     377 

this  company,"  protested  Sharpe.  "Our  other  stock- 
holders are  entirely  innocent  parties." 

"They  have  my  sincere  sympathy  for  being  caught 
in  such  dubious  company,"  replied  Bobby  with  a 
contemptuous  smile.  "I  happen  to  have  a  roster  of 
your  stock-holders,  and  every  man  of  them  has  been 
mixed  up  in  crooked  deals  in  combination  with  Stone 
or  Stone  enterprises ;  so  whatever  they  lose  on  this 
contract  will  be  merely  by  way  of  restitution  to  the 
city." 

"Look  here,  Mr.  Burnit,"  said  Sharpe,  dropping 
his  tone  of  remonstrance  for  one  intended  to  be 
wheedling;  "I  know  there  are  a  number  of  financial 
matters  between  us  that  might  have  a  tendency  to 
make  you  vindictive.  Now  why  can't  we  just  get 
together  nicely  on  all  of  these  things  and  compro- 
mise?" 

Chalmers  rapped  his  knuckles  sharply  upon  his 
desk. 

"Kindly  remember  where  you  are,"  he  warned. 

"When  I  get  around  to  settling  day  there  will  be 
no  such  thing  as  a  compromise,"  declared  Bobby 
with  repressed  anger.  "I'll  settle  all  those  other  mat- 
ters in  my  own  way  and  at  my  own  time." 

"One  thing  more,  gentlemen,"  said  Chalmers,  as 
the  chopfallen  committee  of  the  Middle  West  Con- 
struction Company  rose  to  depart;  "I  wish  to  re- 


378    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

mind  you  that  there  is  a  forfeit  clause  in  your  con- 
tract for  delay,  so  I  should  advise  you  to  resume 
operations  at  once.  Mr.  Platt  succeeds  the  unfor- 
tunate Mr.  Scales  as  constructing  engineer,  and  he 
will  see  that  the  plans  and  specifications  of  the  entire 
contract  are  carried  out  to  the  letter." 

Platt,  who  had  said  nothing,  walked  away  with 
Bobby. 

"You  were  speaking  about  following  the  plans 
exactly,  Mr.  Burnit,"  he  said  when  they  were  alone 
upon  the  street.  "I  find  on  an  examination  of  the 
subsoil  that  there  will  be  a  few  minor  changes  re- 
quired. The  runway,  for  instance,  which  goes  down 
to  the  river  northward  from  the  power-house  for  the 
purpose  of  unloading  coal  barges,  would  be  much 
better  placed  on  the  south  side,  away  from  the  intake. 
There  is  practically  no  difference  in  expense,  except 
that  in  running  to  the  southward  the  riprap  work 
will  need  to  be  carried  about  three  feet  deeper  and 
with  concreted  walls,  in  place  of  being  thrown  loosely 
in  the  trenches  as  originally  planned." 

"All  those  things  are  up  to  you,  Jimmy,"  said 
Bobby  indifferently.  "You  must  use  your  own  judg- 
ment. Any  changes  of  the  sort  that  you  deem  neces- 
sary just  bring  before  the  city  council,  and  I  am 
quite  sure  that  you  can  secure  permission  to  make 
them." 


BOBBY  INAUGURATES  A  TRAGEDY     879 

"Very  well,"  said  Platt,  and  he  left  Bobby  at  the 
corner  with  a  curious  smile. 

He  was  a  different  looking  Jimmy  Platt  from  the 
one  Bobby  had  found  in  his  office  a  week  before.  He 
was  clean-shaven  now,  and  his  clothing  was  quite 
prosperous  looking.  Bobby,  surmising  the  condi- 
tion of  affairs,  had  delicately  insisted  on  making  Platt 
a  loan,  to  be  repaid  from  his  salary  at  a  conveniently 
distant  period,  and  the  world  looked  very  bright  in- 
deed to  him. 

The  next  day  work  on  the  new  waterworks  was 
resumed.  In  bitter  consultation  the  Middle  West 
Construction  Company  had  discovered  that  they 
would  lose  less  by  fulfilling  their  contract  than  by 
forfeiting  their  twenty  per  cent.,  and  they  dispiritedly 
turned  in  again,  kept  constantly  whipped  up  to  the 
mark  by  Platt  and  by  the  knowledge  that  every  day's 
non-completion  of  the  work  meant  a  heavy  additional 
forfeit,  which  they  had  counted  on  being  able  to 
evade  so  long  as  the  complaisant  Mr.  Scales  was  in 
charge. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

'JIMMY     PLATT    ENJOYS    THE     HAPPIEST    DAY    OF    HIS 
LIFE 

THE  straightening  out  of  the  waterworks 
matter  left  Bobby  free  to  turn  his  attention 
to  the  local  gas  and  electric  situation.  The 
'Bulletin,  since  Bobby  had  defeated  his  political  ene- 
mies, had  been  put  upon  a  paying  basis  and  was 
rapidly  earning  its  way  out  of  the  debt  that  he  had 
been  compelled  to  incur  for  it;  but  the  Brightlight 
Electric  Company  was  a  thorn  in  his  side.  Its  only 
business  now  was  the  street  illumination  of  twelve 
blocks,  under  a  municipal  contract  which  lost  him 
money  every  month,  and  it  had  been  a  terrific  task  to 
keep  it  going. 

The  Consolidated  Illuminating  and  Power  Com- 
pany, however,  Bobby  discovered  by  careful  inquiry, 
was  in  even  worse  financial  straits  than  the  Bright- 
light.  To  its  thirty  millions  of  stock,  mostly  water, 
twenty  more  millions  of  water  had  been  added,  mak- 
ing a  total  organization  of  fifty  million  dollars ;  and 
the  twenty  million  dollars'  stock  had  been  sold  to  the 
380 


JIMMY   PLATT'S   HAPPY   DAY      381 

public  for  ten  million  dollars,  each  purchaser  of  one 
share  of  preferred  being  given  one  share  of  common. 
As  the  preferred  was  to  draw  five  per  cent.,  this  meant 
that  two  and  one-half  million  dollars  a  year  must  be 
paid  out  in  dividends.  The  salary  roll  of  the  com- 
pany was  enormous,  and  the  number  of  non-working 
officers  who  drew  extravagant  stipends  would  have 
swamped  any  company.  Comparing  the  two  con- 
cerns, Bobby  felt  that  in  the  Brightlight  he  had 
vastly  the  better  property  of  the  two,  in  that  there 
was  no  water  in  it  at  its  present  half -million-dollar 
capitalization. 

•  It  was  while  pondering  these  matters  that  Bobby, 
dropping  in  at  the  Idlers'  Club  one  dull  night,  found 
no  one  there  but  Silas  Trimmer's  son-in-law,  the 
vapid  and  dissolute  Clarence  Smythe,  which  was  a 
trifle  worse  than  finding  the  place  entirely  deserted. 
To-night  Clarence  was  in  possession  of  what  was 
known  at  the  Idlers'  as  "one  of  Smythe's  soggy  buns," 
and  despite  countless  snubs  in  the  past  he  seized  upon 
Bobby  as  a  receptacle  for  his  woes. 
I  "I'm  going  to  leave  this  town  for  good,  Burnit !" 
Ee  declared  without  any  preliminaries,  having  waited 
so  long  to  convey  this  startling  and  important  in- 
formation that  salutations  were  entirely  forgotten. 

''For  good!    For  whose  good?"  inquired  Bobby. 

"Mine,"  responded  Clarence.     "This  town's  gone 


382    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

to  the  bow-wows.  It's  in  the  hands  of  a  lot  of  pikers. 
There's  no  chance  to  make  big  money  any  more." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  Bobby  dryly;  "I  had  some- 
thing to  do  with  that,  myself." 

"It  was  a  fine  lot  of  muck-raking  you  did,"  charged 
Clarence.  "Well,  I'll  give  you  another  item  for  your 
paper.  I  have  resigned  from  the  Consolidated." 

"It  was  cruel  of  you." 

"It  was  time,"  said  Clarence,  ignoring  the  flip- 
pancy. "Something's  going  to  drop  over  there." 

Bobby  smiled. 

"It's  always  dropping,"  he  agreed. 

"This  is  the  big  drop,"  the  other  went  on,  with  a 
wine-laden  man's  pride  in  the  fact  of  possessing  val- 
uable secrets.  "They're  going  to  make  a  million-dol- 
lar bond  issue." 

"What  for?"  inquired  Bobby. 

'"They  need  the  money,"  chuckled  Mr.  Smythe. 
"Those  city  bonds,  you  know." 

"What  bonds?"  demanded  Bobby  eagerly,  but  try- 
ing to  speak  nonchalantly. 

Mr.  Smythe  suddenly  realized  the  solemn  gravity 
of  his  folly.  Once  more  he  was  talking  too  much. 
Once  more!  It  was  a  thing  to  weep  over.  "I'm  a 
fool,"  he  confessed  in  awe-stricken  tones ;  "a  rotten 
fool,  Burnit.  I'm  ashamed  to  look  anybody  in  the 
face.  I'm  ashamed " 


JIMMY   PLATT'S    HAPPY    DAY       383 

"It's  highly  commendable  of  you,  I'm  sure," 
Bobby  agreed,  and  took  his  hasty  leave  before  Clar- 
ence should  begin  to  sob. 

Immediately  he  called  up  Chalmers  at  his  home. 

"Chalmers,"  he  demanded,  "why  must  the  Consoli- 
dated Illuminating  and  Power  Company  purchase 
city  bonds?" 

Chalmers  laughed. 

"Originally  so  Sam  Stone  could  lend  money  to 
the  Consumers'  Electric.  It  is  a  part  of  their  fran- 
chise, which  is  renewable  at  their  option  in  ten-year 
periods,  and  which  became  a  part  of  the  Consoli- 
dated's  property  when  the  combine  was  effected.  To 
insure  'faithful  performance  of  contract,'  for  which 
clause  every  crooked  municipality  has  a  particular 
affection,  they  were  to  purchase  a  million  dollars' 
worth  of  city  bonds.  Each  year  one  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars'  worth  were  retired.  In  the  tenth  year, 
in  renewing  their  franchise  for  the  next  ten  years, 
they  were  compelled  to  renew  also  their  million  dollars 
of  city  bonds.  These  bonds  they  then  used  as  collat- 
eral. Stone  carried  all  that  he  could,  at  enormous 
usury,  I  understand,  and  let  some  of  his  banker 
friends  in  on  the  rest;  and  I  suppose  the  banks  paid 
him  a  rake-off.  The  ten-year  period  is  up  this  fall, 
and  their  bonds  are  naturally  retired ;  but,  of  course, 
they  will  renew." 


384    THE  MAKING  OF.  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"I'm  not  so  sure  about  that,"  said  Bobby.  "Look 
up  everything  connected  with  it  in  the  morning,  and 
I'll  see  you  at  noon." 

When  they  met  the  next  day  at  noon,  however,  be- 
fore Bobby  could  talk  about  the  business  in  hand, 
Chalmers,  with  a  suppressed  smile,  handed  him  a 
folded  slip  of  paper. 

Bobby  examined  that  legal  document — a  dissolu- 
tion of  the  injunction  which  had  tied  up  a  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  in  his  bank  for  more  than 
two  years — with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"It  seems,"  said  Chalmers  dryly,  "that  at  the  time 
you  laid  yourself  liable  to  Madam  Villenauve's 
breach-of-promise  suit  she  had  an  undivorced  hus- 
band living,  Monsieur  Villenauve  complacently  hiding 
himself  in  France  and  waiting  for  his  share  of  the 
money.  Let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you,  young  man." 

Bobby  hotly  resented  that  grin. 

"I'll  swear  to  you,  Chalmers,"  he  asserted,  "I  never 
so  much  as  thought  of  the  woman  except  as  a  nui- 
sance." 

"I  apologize,  old  man,"  said  Chalmers.  "But  at 
least  this  will  teach  you  not  to  back  any  more  grand 
opera  companies." 

"I  prefer  to  talk  about  the  electric  situation,"  said 
Bobby  severely.  "What  have  you  found  out  about 
it?" 


JIMMY   PLATT'S    HAPPY    DAY       385 

"That  the  Ebony  Jewel  Coal  Company,  a  former 
Stone  enterprise,  has  threatened  suit  against  the  Con- 
solidated for  their  bill.  The  Consolidated  is  in  a 
pinch  and  must  raise  money,  not  only  to  buy  that 
allotment  of  the  new  waterworks  bonds,  but  to  meet 
the  Ebony's  and  other  pressing  accounts.  It  must 
also  float  this  bond  issue,  for  it  is  likely  to  fall  behind 
even  on  its  salary  list." 

"Fine!"  said  Bobby.  "I  can  see  a  lot  of  good 
citizens  in  this  town  holding  stock  in  a  bankrupt 
illuminating  concern.  Just  watch  this  thing,  will 
you,  Chalmers?  About  this  nice,  lucky  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand,  we  may  count  it  as  spent." 

"What  in?"  asked  Chalmers,  smiling.  "Do  you 
think  you  can  trust  yourself  with  all  that  money?" 

"Hush,"  said  Bobby.  "Don't  breathe  it  aloud. 
I'm  going  to  buy  up  all  the  Brightlight  Electric 
stock  I  can  find.  It's  too  bad,  Chalmers,"  he  added 
with  a  grin,  "that  as  mayor  of  the  city  you  could  not, 
with  propriety,  hold  stock  in  this  company,"  and  al- 
though Chalmers  tried  to  call  him  back  Bobby  did 
not  wait.  He  was  too  busy,  he  said. 

His  business  was  to  meet  Agnes  and  Mrs.  Elliston 
for  luncheon  down-town,  and  during  the  meal  he  hap- 
pened to  remark  that  Clarence  Smythe  had  deter- 
mined to  shake  the  dust  of  the  city  from  his  feet. 

"I   thought   so,"    declared   Agnes.     "Aunt   Con- 


386    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

stance,  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  finish  your  shopping 
without  me.  I  must  call  upon  Mrs.  Smythe." 

Mrs.  Elliston  frowned  her  disapproval,  but  she 
knew  better  than  to  protest.  Before  Agnes  called 
upon  Mrs.  Smythe,  however,  she  dropped  in  at  the 
manufacturing  concern  of  D.  A.  Elliston  and  Com- 
pany. 

"Uncle  Dan,  how  much  money  of  mine  have  you 
in  charge  just  now?"  she  demanded  to  know. 

"Cash?     About  five  or  six  thousand." 

"And  how  much  more  could  you  raise  on  my  prop- 
erty?" 

"Right  away?  About  fifteen,  on  bonds  and  such 
securities.  This  is  no  time  to  sacrifice  real  estate." 

"It  isn't  enough,"  said  Agnes,  frowning,  and  was 
silent  for  a  time.  "You'll  just  have  to  loan  me  about 
ten  thousand  more." 

"Oh,  will  I?"  he  retorted.  "What  for?" 

"I  want  to  make  an  investment." 

"So  I  judged,"  he  dryly  responded.  "Well, 
young  lady,  as  your  steward  I  reckon  I'll  have  to 
know  something  more  about  this  investment  before 
I  turn  over  any  money." 

With  sparkling  eyes  and  blushes  that  would  come 
in  spite  of  her,  she  told  him  what  she  intended  to 
do.  When  she  had  concluded,  Dan  Elliston  slapped 
his  knees  in  huge  joy. 


JIMMY   PLATT'S    HAPPY   DAY       387 

"You  shall  have  all  the  money  you  want,"  he  de- 
clared. 

Upon  that  same  afternoon  Bobby  started  to  buy  up, 
here  and  there,  nearly  the  entire  stock  of  the  Bright- 
light,  purchasing  it  at  an  absurdly  low  price.  Then 
he  went  to  De  Graff,  to  Dan  Elliston,  and  to  others 
to  whose  discretion  he  could  trust.  His  own  plans 
were  well  under  way  when  the  Consolidated  Illuminat- 
ing and  Power  Company  announced,  with  a  great 
flourish  of  trumpets,  its  new  bond  issue.  The  Bulletin 
made  no  comment  upon  this.  It  merely  published  the 
news  fact  briefly  and  concisely — an  unexpected  atti- 
tude, which  brought  surprise,  then  wonder,  then  sus- 
picion to  the  office  of  the  Chronicle.  The  Chronicle 
had  been  a  Stone  organ  during  the  heydey  of  Stone's 
prosperity ;  the  Bulletin  had  fought  the  Consolidated 
tooth  and  toe-nail ;  the  already  criminally  overcapital- 
ized Consolidated  was  about  to  float  a  new  bond  issue ; 
the  Bulletin  did  not  fight  this  issue ;  ergo,  the  Bulletin 
must  have  something  to  gain  by  the  issue. 

The  Chronicle  waited  three  days,  then  began  to 
fight  the  bond  issue  itself,  which  was  precisely  the  ef- 
fect for  which  Bobby  had  planned.  Grown  astute, 
Bobby  realized  that  if  the  bond  issue  failed  the  Con- 
solidated would  go  bankrupt  at  once  instead  of  a  year 
or  so  later.  The  newspaper,  however,  which  would 
force  that  bankruptcy  would,  by  that  act,  be  the  ap- 


388    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT, 

parent  means  of  losing  a  vast  amount  of  money  to 
the  poor  investors  of  the  town,  and  Bobby  left  that 
ungrateful  task  to  the  Chronicle.  He  even  went  so  far 
as  to  defend  the  Consolidated  in  a  mild  sort  of  manner, 
a  proceeding  which  fanned  the  Chronicle  into  fresh 
fury. 

For  three  months  desperate  attempts  were  made  by 
the  Consolidated  to  make  the  new  bonds  attractive  to 
the  public,  but  less  than  one  hundred  thousand  dollars 
was  subscribed.  Bobby  was  tabulating  the  known  re- 
sults of  this  subscription  with  much  satisfaction  one 
morning  when  Ferris  walked  into  his  office. 

"I  hope  you  didn't  come  into  town  to  dig  up  an- 
other scandal,  old  man,"  said  Bobby,  greeting  his 
contractor-friend  with  keen  pleasure. 

"No,"  said  Ferris ;  "came  in  to  give  you  a  bit  of 
news.  The  Great  Eastern  and  Western  Railroad 
wants  to  locate  its  shop  here,  and  is  building  by  pri- 
vate bid.  I  have  secured  the  contract,  subject  to  cer- 
tain alterations  of  price  for  distance  of  hauling  and 
difficulty  of  excavation ;  but  the  thing  is  liable  to  fall 
through  for  lack  of  a  location.  They  can't  get  the 
piece  of  property  they  are  after,  and  there  is  only 
one  other  one  large  enough  and  near  enough  to  the 
city.  The  chief  engineer  and  I  are  going  out  to  look 
at  it  again  to-day.  Come  with  us.  If  we  decide  that 
the  property  will  do,  and  if  we  can  secure  it,  you  may 


JIMMY   PLATT'S    HAPPY   DAY       389 

have  an  exclusive  news-item  that  would  be  very  pretty, 
I  should  judge."  And  Ferris  smiled  at  some  secret 
joke. 

"I'll  go  with  pleasure,"  said  Bobby,  "and  not  by 
any  means  just  for  the  news.  When  do  you  want  to 
go?" 

"Oh,  right  away,  I  guess.  I'll  telephone  to  Shep- 
herd and  have  him  order  a  rig." 

"What's  the  use?"  demanded  Bobby,  much  inter- 
ested. "My  car's  right  within  call.  I'll  have  it  brought 
up." 

Shepherd,  the  chief  engineer  of  the  G.  E.  and  W., 
when  they  picked  him  up  at  the  hotel,  proved  to  be 
an  entire  human  being  with  red  whiskers  and  not  a 
care  in  the  world.  Bobby  was  enjoying  a  lot  of  pre- 
liminary persiflage  when  Shepherd  incidentally  men- 
tioned their  destination. 

"It  is  known  as  Westmarsh,"  he  observed.  "I  sup- 
pose you  know  where  it  is." 

Bobby,  who  had  already  started  the  machine  and 
had  placed  his  hand  on  the  steering  wheel,  gave  a  jerk 
so  violent  that  he  almost  sent  the  machine  diagonally 
across  the  street,  and  Ferris  laughed  aloud.  His  little 
joke  was  no  longer  a  secret. 

"Westmarsh !"  Bobby  repeated.  "Why,  I  own  that 
undrainable  swamp." 

"Swamp?"  exclaimed  Shepherd.    "It's  as  dry  as  a 


390    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

bone.  I  looked  it  over  last  night  and  am  going  out 
to-day  to  study  the  possible  approaches  to  it." 

"But  you  say  it  is  dry!"  protested  Bobby,  unable 
to  believe  it. 

"Dry  as  powder,"  asserted  Shepherd.  "There  has 
been  an  immense  amount  of  water  out  there,  but  it 
has  been  well  taken  care  of  by  the  splendid  drainage 
system  that  has  been  put  in." 

"It  cost  a  lot  of  money  to  put  in  that  drainage  sys- 
tem," commented  Bobby;  "but  we  found  it  impracti- 
cable to  drain  an  entire  river." 

It  was  Shepherd's  turn  to  be  puzzled,  a  process  in 
which  he  stopped  to  laugh. 

"This  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  an  owner  belit- 
tle his  own  property,"  he  declared.  "I  suppose  that 
next  you'll  only  accept  half  the  price  we  offer." 

Bobby  kept  up  his  part  of  the  conversation  but 
feebly  as  they  whirled  out  to  the  site  of  the  old  Apple- 
rod  Addition.  He  was  lost  in  speculation  upon  what 
could  possibly  have  happened  to  that  unfortunate 
swamp  area.  When  they  arrived,  however,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  find  that  Shepherd  had  been  correct.  The 
ground,  though  sunken  in  places  and  black  with  the 
residue  of  one-time  stagnant  water,  was  firm  enough 
to  walk  upon,  and  after  many  tests  he  even  ran  the 
machine  across  and  across  it.  Moreover,  grass  and 
weeds,  forcing  their  way  here  and  there,  were  already 


JIMMY   PLATT'S    HAPPY    DAY       391 

beginning  to  hide  and  redeem  the  ugly  earthen  sur- 
face. 

Bobby  surveyed  the  miracle  in  amazement.  It  was 
the  first  time  he  had  seen  the  place  in  a  year.  Even  in 
his  trips  to  the  waterworks  site,  which  was  just  north, 
beyond  the  hill,  he  had  chosen  the  longer  and  less  solid 
river  road  rather  than  to  come  past  this  spot  of 
humiliating  memories. 

"I  can't  understand  it,"  he  said  again  and  again  to 
the  two  men.  "Why,  Mr.  Shepherd,  I  spent  thousands 
of  dollars  in  filling  this  swamp  and  draining  it,  with 
the  idea  of  making  a  city  subdivision  here.  Silas 
Trimmer,  the  man  from  whom  I  bought  the  place, 
imagined  it  to  be  fed  by  underground  springs,  but  he 
let  me  spend  a  fortune  to  attract  people  out  to  see  my 
new  building  lots  so  that  he  could,  without  cost,  sell 
his  own.  That  is  his  addition  up  there  on  the  hills, 
and  I'm  glad  to  say  he  has  recently  mortgaged  it  for 
all  that  it  will  carry." 

"How  about  the  springs?"  asked  Shepherd  with  a 
frown.  "Did  you  find  them  ?  You  must  have  stopped 
them.  Are  they  liable  to  break  out  again?" 

"That's  the  worst  of  it,"  replied  Bobby,  still  grop- 
ing. "It  wasn't  springs  at  all.  It  was  a  peculiar  geo- 
logical formation,  some  disarranged  strata  leading 
beneath  the  hill  from  the  river  and  emptying  into  the 
bottom  of  this  pond.  All  through  the  year  it  seeped 


392    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

in  faster  than  our  extensive  drainings  could  carry  it 
away,  and  in  the  spring  and  fall,  when  the  river  was 
high,  it  poured  in.  I  don't  see  what  could  have  hap- 
pened. Suppose  we  run  over  and  see  the  engineer  who 
worked  on  this  with  me.  He  is  now  in  charge  of  the 
new  waterworks." 

In  five  minutes  they  were  over  there.  Jimmy  Platt, 
out  in  his  shirt-sleeves  under  a  broad-brimmed  straw 
hat,  greeted  them  most  cordially,  but  when  Bobby 
explained  to  him  the  miracle  that  had  happened  to  the 
old  Applerod  Addition,  Platt  laughed  until  the  tears 
came  into  his  eyes ;  and  even  after  he  stopped  laugh- 
ing there  were  traces  of  them  there. 

"Come  down  here  and  I'll  show  you,"  said  he. 

Leading  south  from  the  pumping  station,  diag- 
onally down  the  steep  bank  to  the  river,  had  been  built 
a  splendid  road,  flanked  on  both  sides  by  very  solid, 
substantial-looking  retaining  walls. 

"You  see  this  wall?"  asked  Jimmy,  pointing  to  the 
inside  one.  "It  runs  twenty  feet  below  low-water  level, 
and  is  solidly  cemented.  You  remember  when  I  got 
permission  to  move  this  road  from  the  north  side  to 
the  south  side  of  the  pumping  station?  I  did  that 
after  an  examination  of  the  subsoil.  This  wall  cuts 
off  the  natural  siphon  that  fed  the  water  to  your  Ap- 
plerod Addition.  I  have  been  going  past  there  in  huge 
joy  twice  a  day,  watching  that  swamp  dry  up." 


JIMMY   PLATT'S    HAPPY   DAY      393 

"In  other  words,"  said  Bobby,  "you  have  been  do- 
ing a  little  private  grafting  on  ray  account.  How 
many  additional  dollars  did  that  extra-deep  wall 
cost?" 

"I'm  not  going  to  tell  you,"  asserted  Jimmy 
stoutly.  "It  isn't  very  much,  but  whatever  it  is  the 
city  good  and  plenty  owes  you  for  saving  it  over  a 
million  on  this  job.  But  if  I'd  had  to  pay  for  it  my- 
self I  would  have  done  it  to  correct  the  mistake  I 
made  when  I  started  to  drain  that  swamp  for  you.  I 
guess  this  is  about  the  most  satisfactory  minute  of 
my  life,"  and  he  looked  it. 

"A  fine  piece  of  work,"  agreed  Shepherd,  casting 
a  swift  eye  over  the  immense  and  busy  waterworks  site, 
and  then  glancing  at  the  hill  across  which  lay  Bobby's 
property.  "You're  lucky  to  have  had  this  chance, 
Mr.  Platt,"  and  he  shook  hands  cordially  with  Jimmy. 
"I'm  perfectly  satisfied,  Mr.  Burnit.  Do  you  want  to 
sell  that  property?" 

"If  I  can  get  out  at  a  profit,"  replied  Bobby. 
"Otherwise  I'll  regrade  the  thing  and  split  it  up  into 
building  lots  as  I  originally  intended." 

"Let's  go  back  down  to  the  hotel  and  talk  'turkey,' " 
offered  Shepherd  briskly.  "What  do  you  think  of  the 
place,  Ferris?  WiU  it  do?" 

"Fine!"  said  Ferris.  "The  property  lies  so  low 
that  we  won't  have  to  cart  away  a  single  load  of  our 


394    THE  MAKING  DE  BOBBY  BURNIT. 

excavation.  If  we  can  only  get  a  right-of-way  through 
that  natural  approach  to  the  northeast — " 

"I  think  I  can  guarantee  a  right-of-way,"  inter- 
rupted Bobby,  smiling,  with  his  mind  upon  the  city 
council  which  had  been  created  by  his  own  efforts. 

"All  right,"  said  Shepherd.  "We'll  talk  price  until 
I  have  browbeaten  you  as  low  as  you  will  go.  Then  I'll 
prepare  a  plat  of  the  place  and  send  it  on  to  head- 
quarters. You'll  have  an  answer  from  them  in  three 
days." 

As  they  whirred  away  Bobby's  eyes  happened  to 
rest  upon  a  young  man  and  a  young  woman  rowing 
idly  down-stream  in  a  skiff,  and  he  smiled  as  he  recog- 
nized Biff  Bates  and  Nellie  Platt. 

On  the  day  Bobby  got  the  money  for  his  West- 
marsh  property  old  Applerod  came  up  from  the  office 
of  the  Brightlight  Electric  Company,  where  he  held 
a  lazy,  sleepy  afternoon  job  as  "manager,"  and  with 
an  ingratiating  smile  handed  Bobby  a  check  for  five 
thousand  dollars. 

"What's  this  for?"  asked  Bobby,  puzzled. 

"I  have  decided  to  give  you  back  the  money  and 
take  up  again  my  approximate  one-fifth  share  in  the 
Applerod  Addition,"  announced  that  gentleman  com- 
placently. 

Bobby  was  entirely  too  much  surprised  at  this  to  be 
amused. 


JIMMY   PLATT'S    HAPPY   DAY       395 

"You're  just  a  trifle  too  late,  Mr.  Applerod,"  said 
he.  "Had  you  come  to  me  two  weeks  ago,  when  I 
thought  the  land  was  worthless,  out  of  common  de- 
cency I  would  not  have  let  you  buy  in  again.  Since 
then,  however,  I  have  sold  the  tract  at  a  profit  of  forty 
thousand  dollars." 

"You  have?"  exclaimed  Applerod.  "I  heard  you 
were  going  to  do  something  of  the  kind.  I'm  entitled 
to  one-fifth  of  that  profit,  Mr.  Burnit — eight  thou- 
sand dollars." 

"You're  entitled  to  a  good,  swift  poke  in  the  neck !" 
exclaimed  the  voice  of  wizened  old  Johnson,  who  stood 
in  the  doorway,  and  who,  since  his  friendship  with  Biff 
Bates,  had  absorbed  some  of  that  gentleman's  vigorous 
vernacular.  " Applerod,  I'll  give  you  just  one  minute 
to  get  out  of  this  office.  If  you  don't  I'll  throw  you 
downstairs !" 

"Mr.  Johnson,"  said  Applerod  with  great  dignity, 
"this  office  does  not  belong  to  you.  I  have  as  much 
right  here — " 

Mr.  Johnson,  taking  a  trot  around  Bobby's  desk  so 
as  to  get  Mr.  Applerod  between  him  and  the  door, 
made  a  threatening  demonstration  toward  the  rear, 
and  Applerod,  suddenly  deserting  his  dignity,  rushed 
out.  Bobby  straightened  his  face  as  Johnson,  still 
blazing,  came  in  from  watching  Applerod's  ignomini- 
ous retreat. 


396    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Well,  Johnson,"  said  he,  ignoring  the  incident  as 
closed,  "what  can  I  do  for  you  to-day?" 

"Nothing!"  snapped  Johnson.  "I  have  forgotten 
what  I  came  for !"  and  going  out  he  slammed  the  door 
behind  him. 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  Bobby  was  through  with 
his  morning  allotment  of  mail  and  his  daily  consulta- 
tion with  Jolter,  and  then  he  called  Johnson  to  his 
office. 

"Johnson,"  said  he,  "I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor. 
There  is  one  block  of  Brightlight  stock  that  I  have 
not  yet  bought  up.  It  is  in  the  hands  of  J.  W.  Wil- 
liams, one  of  the  old  Stone  crowd,  who  ought  to  be 
wanting  money  by  this  time.  He  holds  one  hundred 
shares,  which  you  should  be  able  to  buy  by  now  at 
fifty  dollars  a  share.  I  want  you  to  buy  this  stock  in 
your  own  name,  and  I  want  to  loan  you  five  thousand 
dollars  to  do  it  with.  I  merely  want  voting  power ;  so 
after  you  get  it  you  may  hold  it  if  you  like  and  still 
owe  me  the  five  thousand  dollars,  or  I'll  take  it  off 
your  hands  at  any  time  you  are  tired  of  the  obligation. 
You'd  better  go  to  Barrister  and  have  him  buy  the 
stock  for  you." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Johnson. 

Bobby  immediately  went  to  De  Graff. 

"I  came  to  subscribe  for  two  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  additional  stock  in  the 


JIMMY   PLATT'S   HAPPY   DAY      397 

New  Brightlight.  I  have  just  deposited  two  hundred 
and  eighty-five  thousand  dollars  in  your  bank." 

"You're  becoming  an  expert,"  said  De  Graff  with 
a  quizzical  smile.  "With  the  million  dollars'  valua- 
tion at  which  we  are  to  buy  in  the  present  Brightlight, 
the  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  subscribed  for 
by  Dan  Elliston,  and  the  ten  thousand  held  by  Miss 
Elliston,  this  new  subscription  about  gives  you  con- 
trol of  the  New  Brightlight,  don't  it?" 

"That's  what  I  want,"  Bobby  exulted  "You  don't 
object,  do  you?" 

"Not  on  my  own  account,"  De  Graff  assured  him; 
"but  you'd  better  have  Barrister  buy  this  in  for  you 
until  we  are  organized.  Then  you  can  take  it  over." 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  agreed  Bobby.  "I'll  send 
Barrister  right  over,  and  I  think  I  shall  make  him 
take  up  the  remaining  ten  thousand  on  his  own  ac- 
count. A  week  from  to-night  is  the  council  meeting  at 
which  the  Consolidated  must  make  good  to  renew  their 
franchise,  and  we  don't  want  any  hitch  in  getting  our 
final  incorporation  papers  by  that  time.  The  members 
of  the  Consolidated  are  singing  swan  songs  in  seven 
simultaneous  keys  at  this  very  moment." 

Bobby's  description  of  the  condition  of  the  Con- 
solidated was  scarcely  exaggerated.  It  was  a  trying 
and  a  hopeless  period  for  them.  The  bond  issue  had 
failed  miserably.  It  had  not  needed  the  Chronicle  to 


398    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

remind  the  public  of  what  a  shaky  proposition  the 
Consolidated  was,  for  Bobby  had  thoroughly  exposed 
the  corporation  during  the  Bulletin's  campaign 
against  Sam  Stone.  Bond-floating  companies  from 
other  cities  were  brought  in,  and  after  an  examina- 
tion of  the  books  threw  up  their  hands  in  horror  at 
the  crudest  muddle  they  had  ever  found  in  any  in- 
vestigation of  municipal  affairs. 

On  the  night  of  the  council  meeting,  Sharpe  and 
Trimmer  and  Williams,  representing  the  Consoli- 
dated, were  compelled  to  come  before  the  council  and 
confess  their  inability  to  take  up  the  bonds  required 
to  renew  their  franchise;  but  they  begged  that  this 
clause,  since  it  was  an  entirely  unnecessary  one  and 
was  not  enjoined  upon  gas  or  electric  companies  in 
other  cities,  be  not  enforced.  Council,  however,  was 
obdurate,  and  the  committee  thereupon  begged  for  a 
further  extension  of  time  in  which  to  raise  the  neces- 
sary amount  of  money.  Council  still  was  obdurate, 
and  by  that  obduracy  the  franchise  of  the  Consumers' 
Electric  Company,  said  franchise  being  controlled  by 
the  Consolidated  Illuminating  and  Power  Company, 
became  null  and  void. 

Thereupon  Bobby  Burnit,  President  De  Graff  and 
Dan  Elliston,  representing  the  New  Brightlight  Elec- 
tric Company,  recently  organized  for  three  million 
dollars,  came  forward  and  prayed  for  a  franchise  for 


JIMMY   PLATT'S    HAPPY   DAY,       399 

the  electric  lighting  of  the  entire  city,  agreeing  to 
take  over  the  poles  and  wiring  of  the  Consolidated  at 
a  fair  valuation ;  and  council  was  not  at  all  obdurate, 
which  was  scarcely  strange  when  one  reflected  that 
every  member  of  that  municipal  body  had  been  se- 
lected and  put  in  place  through  the  direct  instrumen- 
tality of  Bobby  Burnit.  It  was  practical  politics,  true 
enough,  but  Bobby  had  no  qualms  whatever  about  it. 

"It  may  be  quite  true  that  I  have  not  been  actuated 
by  any  highly  noble  motives  in  this,"  he  confessed  to 
a  hot  charge  by  Williams,  "but  so  long  as  in  municipal 
affairs  I  am  not  actuated  by  any  ignoble  motives  I  am 
doing  pretty  fairly  in  this  town." 

There  was  just  the  bare  trace  of  brutality  in  Bobby 
as  he  said  this,  and  he  suddenly  recognized  it  in  him- 
self with  dismay.  What  pity  Bobby  might  have  felt 
for  these  bankrupt  men,  however,  was  swept  away  in 
a  gust  of  renewed  aggressiveness  when  Trimmer, 
arousing  himself  from  the  ashen  age  which  seemed  all 
at  once  to  be  creeping  over  him,  said,  with  a  return 
of  that  old  circular  smile  which  had  so  often  before 
aggravated  Bobby: 

"I  am  afraid  I'll  have  to  draw  out  of  my  other  ven- 
tures and  retire  on  my  salary  as  president  and  man- 
ager of  Trimmer  and  Company." 

Vengefulness  was  in  Bobby's  eyes  as  he  followed 
Trimmer's  sprawling  figure,  so  much  like  a  bloated 


400    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

spider's  in  its  bigness  of  circumference  and  its  at- 
tenuation of  limbs,  that  suddenly  he  shuddered  and 
turned  away  as  when  one  finds  oneself  about  to  step 
upon  a  toad. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

IN  WHICH,  BEING  THE  LAST  CHAPTER,  EVERYTHING 

TURNS  OUT  RIGHT,  AND  EVERYBODY  GETS 

MARRIED 

A~  the  offices  of  the  New  Brightlight  Elec- 
tric Company  there  was  universal  rejoicing. 
Johnson  was  removed  from  the  Bulletin  to 
take  charge  of  the  new  organization  until  it  should  be 
completed,  and  Bobby  himself,  for  a  few  days,  was 
compelled  to  spend  most  of  his  time  there.  During  the 
first  week  after  the  granting  of  the  franchise  Bobby 
called  Johnson  to  him. 

'"Mr.  Johnson,"  said  he  quite  severely,  "you  have 
Been  so  careful  and  so  faithful  in  all  other  things  that 
I  dislike  to  remind  you  of  an  overlooked  duty." 

"I  am  sorry,  sir,"  said  Johnson.   "What  is  it?" 

"You  have  neglected  to  make  out  a  note  for  that 
five-thousand-dollar  loan.  Kindly  draw  it  up  now, 
payable  in  ten  years,  with  interest  at  four  per  cent. 
after  the  date  of  maturity." 

"But,  sir,"  stammered  Johnson,  "the  stock  is  worth 


401 


402    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Would  you  like  to  keep  it?" 

"I'd  be  a  fool  to  say  I  wouldn't,  sir.  But  the  stock 
is  not  only  worth  par, — it  was  worth  that  in  the  old 
Brightlight;  and  I  received  an  exchange  of  two  for 
one  in  the  New  Brightlight,  which  is  also  worth  par 
this  morning;  so  I  hold  twenty  thousand  dollars' 
worth  of  stock." 

"It  cost  me  five  thousand,"  insisted  Bobby,  "and 
we'll  settle  at  that  figure." 

"I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you,  sir,"  trembled 
Johnson,  but  he  stiffened  immediately  as  Applerod  in- 
truded himself  into  the  room  with  a  bundle  of  papers 
which  he  laid  upon  the  desk. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Burnit,"  began  Applerod, 
"but  I  have  five  thousand  dollars  I'd  like  to  invest  in 
the  New  Brightlight  Company  if  you  could  manage 
it  for  me." 

"I'm  sorry,  Applerod,"  said  Bobby,  "but  there  isn't 
a  share  for  sale.  It  was  subscribed  to  the  full  capital- 
ization before  the  incorporation  papers  were  issued." 

Applerod  was  about  to  leave  the  room  in  deep  de- 
jection when  Johnson,  with  a  sudden  happy  inspira- 
tion, called  him  back. 

"I  think  I  know  where  you  can  buy  five  thousand," 
said  Johnson ;  "but  you  will  have  to  hurry  to  get  it." 

"Where?"  asked  Applerod  eagerly,  while  Bobby 
went  to  the  window  to  conceal  his  broad  smiles. 


EVERYBODY   GETS    MARRIED       403 

"Just  put  on  your  hat  and  go  right  over  to  Bar- 
rister," directed  Johnson;  "and  take  a  blank  check 
with  you.  I'll  telephone  him,  to  save  time  for  you. 
The  stock  is  worth  par,  and  that  lonesome  fifty  shares 
will  be  snapped  up  before  you  know  it." 

"You  will  excuse  me  till  I  go  up-town,  Mr.  Burnit?" 
inquired  Applerod,  and  bustled  out  eagerly. 

He  had  no  sooner  left  the  building  than  Johnson 
grabbed  Bobby's  telephone  and  called  up  Barrister. 

"This  is  Johnson,"  he  said  to  the  old  attorney.  "I 
have  just  sent  Applerod  over  to  you  to  buy  fifty  shares 
of  New  Brightlight  at  par.  Take  his  check  and  hold  it 
for  delivery  of  the  stock.  I'll  have  it  over  to  you 
within  an  hour,  or  as  soon  as  I  can  have  the  transfer 
made.  It  is  my  stock,  but  I  don't  want  him  to  know 
it." 

Hanging  up  the  receiver  old  Johnson  sat  in  the 
chair  by  Bobby's  desk  and  his  thin  shoulders  heaved 
with  laughter. 

"Applerod  will  be  plumb  crazy  when  he  finds  that 
out,"  he  said.  "To  think  that  I  have  fifteen  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  this  good  stock  that  didn't  cost  me 
a  cent,  all  paid  for  with  Applerod's  own  five  thousand 
dollars!" 

Johnson  laughed  so  hard  that  finally  he  was  com- 
pelled to  lay  his  head  on  the  desk  in  front  of  him, 
with  his  lean  old  fingers  over  his  eyes. 


404    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Thanks  to  yon,  Robert;  thanks  to  you,"  he  added 
after  a  little  silence. 

Bobby,  turning  from  the  window,  saw  the  thin 
shoulders  still  heaving.  There  was  a  glint  of  moisture 
on  the  lean  hands  that  had  toiled  for  so  many  years  in 
the  Burnit  service,  and  as  Bobby  passed  he  placed  his 
hand  on  old  Johnson's  bowed  head  for  just  an  instant, 
then  went  out,  leaving  Johnson  alone. 

It  was  Applerod  who,  returning  triumphantly  with 
Barrister's  promise  of  the  precious  block  of  New 
Brightlight  for  delivery  in  the  afternoon,  brought 
Bobby  a  copy  of  his  own  paper  containing  so  much 
startling  news  that  the  front  page  consisted  only  of  a 
hysteria  of  head-lines.  Sudden  proceedings  in  bank- 
ruptcy had  been  filed  against  the  Consolidated  Illumi- 
nating and  Power  Company.  These  proceedings  had 
revealed  the  fact  that  Frank  L.  Sharpe,  supposed  to 
have  left  the  city  on  business  for  the  company,  had  in 
reality  disappeared  with  the  entire  cash  balance  of  the 
Consolidated.  This  disappearance  had  immediately 
thrust  the  Middle  West  Construction  Company  into 
bankruptcy.  By  Stone's  own  acts  the  Stone  enter- 
prises had  crumpled  and  fallen,  and  all  his  adherents 
were  ruined. 

Out  of  the  chaos  that  the  startling  facts  he  was 
able  to  glean  created  in  Bobby's  mind  there  came  a 
thought  of  Ferris,  and  he  immediately  telephoned  him, 


EVERYBODY  GETS  MARRIED!   '405 

out  at  the  site  of  the  new  G.  E.  and  W.  shops,  where 
ground  was  already  being  broken,  that  he  would  be 
out  that  way. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  took  Ferris  into  his  machine 
and  they  whirled  over  to  the  waterworks  site,  where 
the  work  had  stopped  as  abruptly  as  if  that  scene  of 
animation  had  suddenly  been  stricken  of  a  plague  and 
died.  On  the  way  Bobby  explained  to  Ferris  what  had 
happened. 

"You  were  the  lowest  legitimate  bidder  on  the  job, 
I  believe,"  he  concluded. 

"Yes,  outside  of  the  local  company." 

"If  I  were  you  I'd  get  busy  with  Jimmy  Platt  on 
an  estimate  of  the  work  already  done,"  suggested 
Bobby.  "I  think  it  very  likely  that  the  city  council 
will  offer  the  Keystone  Construction  Company  the  con- 
tract at  its  former  figure,  with  the  proper  deductions 
for  present  progress.  We  will  make  up  the  difference 
between  their  bid  and  yours,  and  whatever  loss  there 
is  in  taking  up  the  work  will  come  out  of  the  forfeit 
put  up  by  the  Middle  West  Company." 

Jimmy  Platt  ran  out  to  meet  them  like  a  lost  soul. 
The  waterworks  project  had  become  his  pet.  He  lived 
with  it  and  dreamed  of  it,  and  that  there  was  a  pros- 
pect of  resuming  work,  and  under  such  skilful  super- 
vision as  that  of  Ferris,  delighted  him.  While  Jimmy 
and  Mr.  Ferris  went  into  the  office  to  prepare  a  basis 


406    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

of  estimating,  Bobby  stayed  behind  to  examine  the 
carbureter  of  his  machine,  which  had  been  acting  sus- 
piciously on  the  way  out,  and  while  he  was  engaged 
in  this  task  a  voice  that  he  knew  quite  well  saluted 
him  with : 

"Fine  work,  old  pal!  I  guess  you  put  all  your 
lemons  into  the  squeezer  and  got  the  juice,  eh?" 

Biff  had  a  copy  of  the  Bulletin  in  his  hand,  which 
was  sufficient  explanation  of  his  congratulations. 

"Things  do  seem  to  be  turning  out  pretty  lucky 
for  me,  Biff,"  Bobby  confessed,  and  then,  looking  at 
Mr.  Bates,  he  immediately  apologized.  "I  beg  par- 
don for  calling  you  Biff,"  said  he.  "I  should  have  said 
Mr.  Bates." 

"Cut  it!"  growled  Biff,  looking  himself  over  with 
some  complacency  nevertheless. 

From  his  nice  new  derby,  which  replaced  the  slouch 
cap  he  had  always  preferred,  to  his  neat  and  uncom- 
fortably-pointed gun-metal  leathers  which  had  sup- 
planted the  broad-toed  tans,  Mr.  Bates  was  an  epit- 
ome of  neatly-pressed  grooming.  White  cuffs  edged 
the  sleeves  of  his  gray  business  suit,  and — wonder  of 
wonders ! — he  wore  a  white  shirt  with  a  white  collar, 
in  which  there  was  tied  a  neat  bow  of — last  wonder 
of  all — modest  gray ! 

"I  suppose  that  costume  is  due  to  distinctly  fem- 
inine influence,  eh,  Biff?" 


EVERYBODY   GETS   MARRIES       407 

"Guilty  as  Cassie  Chadwick!"  replied  Biff  witK  a 
sheepish  grin.  "She's  try  in'  to  civilize  me." 

"Who  is?"  demanded  Bobby. 

"Oh,  she  is.  You  know  who  I  mean.  Why,  she's 
even  taught  me  to  cut  out  slang.  Say,  Bobby,  I  didn't 
know  how  much  like  a  rough-neck  I  used  to  talk.  I 
never  opened  my  yawp  but  what  I  spilled  a  line  of 
fricasseed  gab  so  twisted  and  frazzled  and  shredded 
you  could  use  it  to  stuff  sofa-cushions ;  but  now  I've 
handed  that  string  of  talk  the  screw  number.  No  more 
slang  for  your  Uncle  Biff." 

"I'm  glad  you  have  quit  it,"  approved  Bobby  so- 
berly. "I  suppose  the  next  thing  I'll  hear  will  be  the 
wedding  bells." 

"No !"  Biff  denied  in  a  tone  so  pained  and  shocked 
that  Bobby  looked  up  in  surprise  to  see  his  face  gone 
pale.  "Don't  talk  about  that,  Bobby.  Why,  I  wouldn't 
dare  even  think  of  it  myself.  I — I  never  think  about 
it.  Me?  with  a  mitt  like  a  picnic  ham?  Did  you  ever 
see  her  hand,  Bobby  ?  And  her  eyes  and  her  hair  and 
all?  Why,  Bobby,  if  I'd  ever  catch  myself  daring  to 
think  about  marrying  that  girl  I'd  take  myself  by 
the  Adam's  apple  and  give  myself  the  damnedest 
choking  that  ever  turned  a  mutt's  map  purple." 

"I'm  sorry,  after  all,  that  you  are  through  with 
slang,  Biff,"  said  Bobby,  "because  if  you  were  still 
using  it  you  might  have  expressed  that  idea  so  much 


408    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

more  picturesquely;"  but  Biff  did  not  hear  him,  for 
from  the  office  came  Nellie  Platt  with  a  sun-hat  in  her 
hand. 

"Right  on  time,"  she  said  gaily  to  Biff,  and,  with 
a  pleasant  word  for  Bobby,  went  down  with  Mr.  Bates 
to  the  river  bank,  where  lay  the  neat  little  skiff  that 
Jimmy  had  bought  for  her. 

Bobby  and  Ferris  and  Platt,  standing  up  near  the 
filters,  later  on,  were  startled  by  a  scream  from  the 
river,  and,  turning,  they  saw  the  skiff,  in  mid-stream, 
struck  by  a  passing  steamer  and  splintered  as  if  it 
were  made  of  pasteboard.  Nellie  had  been  rowing. 
Biff  had  called  her  attention  to  the  approaching 
steamer,  across  the  path  of  which  they  were  passing. 
There  had  been  plenty  of  time  to  row  out  of  the  way  of 
it,  but  Nellie  in  grasping  her  oar  for  a  quick  turn  had 
lost  it.  Fortunately  the  engines  had  been  stopped  im- 
mediately when  the  pilot  had  seen  that  they  must 
strike,  so  that  there  was  no  appreciable  underdrag. 
Biff's  head  had  been  grazed  slightly,  enough  to  daze 
him  for  an  instant,  but  he  held  himself  up  mechani- 
cally. Nellie,  clogged  by  her  skirts,  could  not  swim, 
and  as  Biff  got  his  bearings  he  saw  her  close  by  him 
going  down  for  the  second  time.  Two  men  sprang 
from  the  lower  deck  of  the  steamer,  but  Biff  reached 
her  first,  and,  his  senses  instantly  clearing  as  he 
caught  her,  he  struck  out  for  the  shore. 


EVERYBODY   GETS    MARRIED       409 

The  three  men  on  shore  immediately  ran  down  the 
bank,  and  sprang  into  the  water  to  help  Biff  out  with 
his  burden.  He  was  pale,  but  strangely  cool  and  col- 
lected. 

"Don't  go  at  it  that  way !"  he  called  to  them  sav- 
agely, knowing  neither  friend  nor  foe  in  this  emer- 
gency. "Get  her  loosened  up  someway,  can't  you?" 

Without  waiting  on  them,  Biff  ripped  a  knife  from 
his  pocket,  opened  it  and  slit  through  waist  and  skirt- 
band  and  whatever  else  intervened,  to  her  corset,  which 
he  opened  with  big  fingers,  the  sudden  deftness  of 
which  was  marvelous.  Directing  them  with  crisp, 
sharp  commands,  he  guided  them  through  the  first 
steps  toward  resuscitation,  and  then  began  the  slow, 
careful  pumping  of  the  arms  that  should  force  breath 
back  into  the  closed  lungs. 

For  twenty  minutes,  each  of  which  seemed  inter- 
minable, Jimmy  and  Biff  worked,  one  on  either  side 
of  her,  Biff's  face  set,  cold,  expressionless,  until  at  last 
there  was  a  flutter  of  the  eyelids,  a  cry  of  distress  as 
the  lungs  took  up  their  interrupted  function,  then  the 
sharp,  hissing  sound  of  the  intake  and  outgo  of  nat- 
ural, though  labored,  breath ;  then  Nellie  Platt  opened 
her  big,  brown  eyes  and  gazed  up  into  the  gray  ones 
of  Biff  Bates.  She  faintly  smiled;  then  Biff  did  a 
thing  that  he  had  never  done  before  in  his  mature  life. 
He  suddenly  broke  down  and  cried  aloud,  sobbing  in 


410    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BU11NIT 

great  sobs  that  shook  him  from  head  to  foot  and  that 
hurt  him,  as  they  tore  from  his  throat,  as  the  first 
breath  of  new  life  had  hurt  Nellie  Platt;  and,  seeing 
and  understanding,  she  raised  up  one  weak  arm  and 
slipped  it  about  his  neck. 

It  was  about  a  week  after  this  occurrence  when 
Silas  Trimmer,  coming  back  from  lunch  to  attend  the 
annual  stock-holders'  meeting  of  Trimmer  and  Com- 
pany, stopped  on  the  sidewalk  to  inspect,  with  some 
curiosity,  a  strange,  boxlike-looking  structure  which 
leaned  face  downward  upon  the  edge  of  the  curbing. 
It  was  three  feet  wide  and  full  sixty  feet  long.  He 
stooped  and  tried  to  tilt  it  up,  but  it  was  too  heavy 
for  his  enfeebled  frame,  and  with  another  curious 
glance  at  it  he  went  into  the  store. 

The  meeting  was  set  for  half-past  two.  It  was  now 
scarcely  two,  and  yet,  when  he  opened  the  door  of  his 
private  office,  which  had  been  set  apart  for  that  day's 
meeting,  he  was  surprised  at  the  number  of  people  he 
found  in  the  room.  'A  quick  recognition  of  them 
mystified  him  the  more.  They  were  Bobby  Burnit 
and  Agnes,  Johnson,  Applerod  and  Chalmers. 

"I  came  a  little  early,  Mr.  Trimmer,"  said  Bobby, 
in  a  polite  conversational  tone,  "to  have  these  three 
hundred  shares  transferred  upon  the  books  of  Trim- 
mer and  Company,  before  the  stock-holders'  meeting 


EVERYBODY    GETS    MARRIED       411 

"What  shares  are  they?"  inquired  Silas  in  a  voice 
grown  strangely  shrill  and  metallic. 

"The  stock  that  was  previously  controlled  by  your 
son-in-law,  Mr.  Clarence  Smythe.  Miss  Elliston 
bought  them  last  week  from  your  daughter,  with  the 
full  consent  of  your  son-in-law." 

"The  dog!"  Trimmer  managed  to  gasp,  and  his 
fingers  clutched  convulsively. 

"Possibly,"  admitted  Bobby  dryly.  "At  any  rate 
he  has  had  to  leave  town,  and  I  do  not  think  you  will 
be  bothered  with  him  any  more.  In  the  meantime, 
Mr.  Trimmer,  I'd  like  to  call  your  attention  to  a  few 
very  interesting  figures.  When  you  urged  me,  four 
years  ago,  to  consolidate  the  John  Burnit  and  Trim- 
mer and  Company  Stores,  my  father's  business  was  ap- 
praised at  two  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  dollars  and 
yours  at  two  hundred  and  forty.  On  your  suggestion 
we  took  in  sixty  thousand  dollars  of  additional  capital. 
I  did  not  know  as  much  at  that  time  as  I  do  now,  and 
I  let  you  sell  this  stock  where  you  could  control  it, 
virtually  giving  you  three  thousand  shares  to  my  two 
thousand  six  hundred.  You  froze  me  out,  elected  your 
own  board,  made  yourself  manager  at  an  enormous 
salary,  and  voted  your  son-in-law  another  one  so  ridic- 
ulous that  it  was  put  out  of  all  possibility  for  my 
stock  ever  to  yield  any  dividends.  All  right,  Mr. 
Trimmer.  With  the  purchase  of  this  three  hundred 


412    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

shares  I  now  control  two  thousand  nine  hundred  shares 
and  you  two  thousand  seven  hundred.  I  presume  I 
don't  need  to  tell  you  what  is  ~  (.••»:  '-  to  happen  in  to- 
day's meeting." 

To  this  Silas  returned  no  answer. 

"I  am  an  old  man,"  he  muttered  to  himself  as  one 
suddenly  stricken.  "I  am  an  old,  old  man." 

"I  am  going  to  oust  you,"  continued  Bobby,  "and 
to  oust  all  your  relatives  from  their  fat  positions  ;  and 
I  am  going  to  elect  myself  to  everything  worth  while. 
I  have  brought  Mr.  Johnson  with  me  to  inspect  your 
books,  and  Mr.  Chalmers  to  take  charge  of  certain 
legal  matters  connected  with  the  concern  immediately 
after  the  close  of  to-day's  meeting.  I  am  going  to  re- 
store Applerod  to  his  position  here  from  which  you  so 
unceremoniously  discharged  him,  and  make  Johnson 
general  manager  of  this  and  all  my  affairs.  I  under- 
stand that  your  stock  in  this  concern  is  mortgaged, 
and  that  you  will  be  utterly  unable  to  redeem  it.  I 
intend  to  buy  it  and  practically  own  the  entire  com- 
pany myself.  Are  there  any  questions  you  would  like 
to  ask,  Mr.  Trimmer?" 

There  was  none.  Silas,  crushed  and  dazed  and 
pitiable,  only  moaned  that  he  was  an  old  man ;  that  he 
was  an  old,  old  man. 

Bobby  felt  the  gentle  pressure  of  Agnes'  hand  upon 
his  arm.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence. 


EVERYBODY    GETS    MARRIED       413 

Trimmer  looked  around  at  them  piteously.  Once 
more  Bobby  felt  that  touch  upon  his  sleeve.  Under- 
standing, he  went  over  to  Silas  and  took  him  gently; 
by  the  arm. 

"Come  over  here  to  th'e  window  with  me  a  minute," 
said  he,  "and  we  will  have  a  little  business  talk." 

"Business !  Oh,  yes ;  business !"  said  Silas,  bright- 
ening up  at  the  mention  of  the  word. 

He  rose  nervously  and  allowed  Bobby  to  lead  him, 
bent  and  almost  palsied,  over  to  the  window,  where 
they  could  look  out  on  the  busy  street  below,  and  the 
roofs  of  the  tall  buildings,  and  the  blue  sky  beyond 
where  it  smiled  down  upon  the  river.  It  was  only  a 
fleeting  glance  that  Silas  Trimmer  cast  at  the  familiar 
scene  outside,  and  almost  immediately  he  turned  to 
Bobby,  clutching  his  coat  sleeve  eagerly.  "You — you 
said  something  about  business,"  he  half-whispered, 
and  over  his  face  there  came  a  shadow  of  that  old, 
shrewd  look. 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  Bobby  uncomfortably.  "I 
think  we  can  find  a  place  for  you,  Mr.  Trimmer.  You 
have  kept  this  concern  up  splendidly,  no  matter  how 
much  beset  you  were  outside,  and — and  I  think  John- 
son will  engage  you,  if  you  care  for  it,  to  look  after 
certain  details  of  buying  and  such  matters  as  that." 

"Oh,  yes,  the  buying,"  agreed  Silas,  nodding  his 
head.  "I  always  was  a  good  buyer — and  a  good  seller, 


414.    THE  MAKING  OF  BOBBY  BURNIT 

too !"  and  he  chuckled.  "About  what  do  you  say,  now, 
that  my  services  would  be  worth  ?"  and  with  the  pros- 
pect of  bartering  more  of  his  old  self  came  back. 

"We'll  make  that  satisfactory,  I  can  assure  you," 
said  Bobby.  "Your  salary  will  be  a  very  liberal  one, 
I  am  certain,  and  it  will  begin  from  to-day.  First, 
however,  you  must  have  a  good  rest — a  vacation  with 
pay,  understand — and  it  will  make  you  strong  again. 
You  are  a  little  run  down." 

"Yes,"  agreed  Silas,  nodding  his  head  as  the  anima- 
tion faded  out  of  his  eyes.  "I'm  getting  old.  I  think, 
Mr.  Burnit,  if  you  don't  mind  I'll  go  into  the  little 
room  there  and  lie  on  the  couch  for  a  few  minutes." 

"That  is  a  good  idea,"  said  Bobby.  "You  should 
be  rested  for  the  meeting." 

"Oh,  yes,"  repeated  Silas,  nodding  his  head  sagely ; 
"the  meeting." 

They  were  uncomfortably  silent  when  Bobby  had 
returned  from  the  little  room  adjoining.  The  shadow 
of  tragedy  lay  upon  them  all,  and  it  was  out  of  this 
shadow  that  Bobby  spoke  his  determination. 

"I  am  going  to  get  out  of  business,"  he  declared. 
"It  is  a  hard,  hard  game.  I  can  win  at  it,  but — well, 
I'd  rather  go  back,  if  I  only  could,  to  my  unsophistica- 
tion  of  four  years  ago.  I  don't  like  business.  Of 
course,  I'll  keep  this  place  for  tradition's  sake,  and 
because  it  would  please  my  father — no,  I  mean  it  will 


EVERYBODY    GETS    MARRIED       415 

please  him — but  I'm  going  to  sell  the  Bulletin.  I  have 
an  offer  for  it  at  an  excellent  profit.  I'm  going  to 
intrust  the  management  of  the  electric  plant  to  my 
good  friend  Biff,  here,  with  Chalmers  and  Johnson  as 
starboard  and  larboard  bulwarks,  until  the  stock  is 
quoted  at  a  high  enough  rating  to  be  a  profitable  sale ; 
then  I'm  going  to  turn  it  into  money,  and  add  it  to  the 
original  fund.  I  think  I  shall  be  busy  enough  just 
looking  after  and  enjoying  my  new  partnership,"  and 
he  smiled  down  at  Agnes,  who  smiled  back  at  him  with 
a  trusting  admiration  that  needed  no  words  to  express. 

"Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  old  Johnson,  "but  I 
have  a  letter  here  for  you,"  and  from  his  inside  pocket 
he  drew  one  of  the  familiar  steel-gray  envelopes,  which 
he  handed  to  Bobby. 

It  was  addressed: 

To  My  Son  Bobby,  Upon  His  Regaining  His  Father's 
Business 

The  message  inside  was  so  brief  that  one  who  had 
not  known  well  old  John  Burnit  would  never  have 
known  the  full,  full  heart  out  of  which  he  penned  it : 

"I  knew  you'd  do  it,  dear  boy.  Whatever  mystery  I 
find  in  the  great  hereafter  I  shall  be  satisfied — for  I 
knew  you'd  do  it." 

That  was  all. 


416    THE  MAKING  OE  BOBBY  BURNIT 

"Johnson,'*  said  Bobby,  crumpling  up  the  letter  in 
his  hand,  and  speaking  briskly  to  beat  back  his  emo- 
tion, "we  will  move  our  offices  to  the  same  old  quarters, 
and  we  will  move  back,  for  my  use,  my  father's  old 
desk  with  my  father's  portrait  hanging  above  it,  just 
as  they  were  when  Silas  Trimmer  ordered  them  re- 
moved." 

Two  of  the  stock-holders  came  in  at  this  moment, 
and  Agnes  went  down  into  the  store  to  find  Biff  Bates 
and  Nellie  Platt,  for  there  was  much  shopping  to  do. 
Agnes  had  taken  pretty  Nellie  under  her  chaperonage, 
and  every  day  now  the  girls  were  busy  with  prepara- 
tions for  certain  events  in  which  each  was  highly  in- 
terested. 

Up  in  the  office  there  was  a  meeting  that  was  a 
shock  to  all  the  stock-holders  but  one,  and  after  it  was 
over  Bobby  joined  the  shoppers.  When  the  four  of 
them  had  clambered  into  Bobby's  automobile  and  were 
rolling  away,  Bobby  stopped  his  machine. 

"Look,"  he  said  in  calm  triumph,  and  pointed  up- 
ward, his  hand  clasping  a  smaller  hand  which  was  to 
rest  contentedly  in  his  through  life. 

Over  the  Grand  Street  front  of  the  building  from 
which  they  had  emerged,  workmen  were  just  raising 
a  huge  electric  sign,  and  it  bore  the  legend : 

THE  JOHN  BURNIT'S  SON  STORES 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


RENEWAL 
LD  URL 


LU  UKL 


AUG3 


SEfi 


2  7 1990 


Form  L9-75m-7,'61(Cl437s4)444 


PS 
3* 
CU371U 


